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Xili.  L\s,i 


A  CHILD'S 


HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


BY 


CHARLES   DICKENS. 


WITH 


TWENTY-FOUR    ILLUSTRATIONS  BY  A.  DE  NEUVILLE, 
EMILE  BAYARD,  F.  LIX,  AND  OTHERS. 


NEW  EDITION. 


BOSTON: 
ESTES  AND  LAURIAT, 

299-3°5  WASHINGTON  STREET. 


TABLE     OF    THE     REIGNS. 


BEGINNING   WITH   KING  ALFEED  THE   GREAT. 


THE  SAXONS. 


The  Reign  of  Alfred  the  Great  .  began  in  871 
The  Reign  of  Edward  the  Elder  .  began  in  901 
The  Reign  of  Athelstan 


ended  in   901 
ended  in    925 
began  in    925  .  ended  in    941 


and  lasted  30  yrs. 
and  lasted  24  yrs. 
and  lasted  1(5  yrs. 


The  Reigns  of  the  Six  Boy- Kings  began  in   941  .  ended  in  1016  .  and  lasted  75  yrs. 


THE  DANES,   AND  THE  RESTORED  SAXONS. 


The  Reign  of  Canute began  in  1016  .  ended  in  1035 

Tlie  Reign  of  Harold  Harefoot    .  began  in  1035  .  ended  in  1040 
The  Rekn  of  Hardieanure  .     .     .  began  in  1040 
The  Roign  of  Edward  the  Con-  I    .        Q  ,n  1Q42 
lessor     •• ) 


ended  in  1042 
ended  in  10CG 


and  lasted  19  yrs. 
and  lasted  5  yrs. 
and  lasted  2  yrs. 

and  lasted  24  yrs. 


The  Reign  of  Harold  the  Second,  and  the  Norman  Conquest,  were  also 
within  the  year  1066. 


The  Reign  of  William  the  First, 
called  the  Conqueror    .     .     . 
The  Reign  of  William  the  Sec- 
ond, called  Rufus      .... 
The  Reign  of  Henry  the  First, 
called  Fine-Scholar  .    .    .     , 
The    Reigns    of   Matilda    and 
Stephen    . 

THE  NORMANS. 
|    began  in  1066  .  ended  in  1087  . 
|   began  in  1087  .  ended  in  1100  . 
|   began  in  1100  .  ended  in  1135  . 
|   began  in  1135  .  ended  in  1154  . 

and  lasted  21  yrs. 
and  lasted  13  yrs. 
and  lasted  35  yrs. 
and  lasted  19  yrs. 

THE    PLANTA GENETS. 


The  Reign  of  Henry  the  Second  . 
The  Reign  of  Richard  the  First,  I 

called  the  Lion-Heart  ...  1 
The  Reign  of  John,  called  Lack-  ) 

land I 

The  Reign  of  Henry  the  Third  . 
The  Reten  of  Edward  the  First,  1 

called  Longshanks  .  .  .  . ) 
The  Reign  of  E d  ward  the  Second 
The  lieign  of  Edward  the  Third  . 
The  Reign  of  Richard  the  Second 
The  Reign  of  Henry  the  Fourth,  I 

caller  Bolliurbroke  .  .  .  . ) 
The  Retell  of  Henry  the  Fifth  . 
The  lieign  of  Henry  the  Sixth  . 
The  Reign  of  Edward  the  Fourth 

The  Reign  of  Edward  the  Fifth  . 
The  Reign  of  Richard  the  Third 


began 
began 

began 
began 
began 

began 
began 
began 

began 

began 

began 

began 
began 


in  1154 
in  1189 

in  1199 
in  1216 
in  1272 

in  1307 
in  1327 
in  1377 

in  1399 

in  1413 
in  1422 
in  1401 

in  1483 
ill  1483 


ended  in  1189 
ended  in  1199 


ended  in 
ended  in 
ended  in 

ended  in 
ended  in 
ended  in 

ended  in 

ended  in 
ended  in 
en, led  in 

ended  in 
ended  in 


1216 
1272 
1307 

1327 
1377 
1399 

1413 

1422 
1401 
1483 

1483 
1485 


2230805 


.  and  lasted  35  yrs. 
and  lasted  10  yrs. 

and  lasted  17  yrs. 
and  lasted  56  yrs. 
and  lasted  35  yrs. 

and  lasted  20  yrs. 
and  lasted  50  yrs. 
and  lasted  22  yrs. 

and  lasted  14  yrs. 

and  lasted    9  yrs. 

and  lasted  39  yrs. 

and  lasted  22  yrs. 
l  and  lusted  a 
|  few  weeks. 

and  lasted   2  yrs. 


TABLE   OF  THE  REIGNS. 


THE  TUDORS. 


The  Reign  of  Henry  the  Seventh  began  in  1485 
The  Ituigu  of  Henry  the  Eighth  .  began  in  1509 
The  Ueign  of  Edward  the  Sixth  .  began  in  1547 

The  Keign  of  Mary began  in  1553  .  ended  in  1558  .  and  lasted    5  yrs. 

The  Keign  of  Elizabeth  ....  began  in  1558  .  ended  iu  1003  .  and  lasted  45  yrs. 


ended  in  1509 
ended  in  1547 
ended  in  1553 


and  lasted  24  yrs. 
and  lasted  38  yrs. 
and  lasted  0  yrs. 


THE  STUARTS. 

The  Reign  of  James  the  First      .  began  in  1603  .  ended  in  1625  .  and  lasted  22  yrs. 
The  Keigu  of  Charles  the  First    .  begau  iu  1025  .  ended  iu  1049  .  aud  lasted  24  yrs. 


The  Council  of  State  and  Gov- 
eminent  by  Parliament 

T  Crom 

T  Ct°rat 


THE  COMMONWEALTH. 

b          iu  1(J49     en(]ed  in  1653 

began  in  1653  '  ended  in  1658 


d  ,    t  d   4 

'  and  lasted 
and  *** 


GVoimvenC°ra?  °  *r        began  in  1058  .  ended  in  1659 

The  Council  of  State,  and  Gov-  I    rpSlimpli  sn  1fi=q  p,lfipfl  in  ifi«n    I  and  lasted  thir- 
eruuieut  by  Parliament    .    .  /   r'  >0{     teen  mouths. 


THE  STUARTS  RESTORED. 


The  Reign  of  Charles  the  Second  began  in  1660  .  ended  in  1685  .  and  lasted  25  yrs. 
The  Keign  of  James  the  Second  .  begau  iu  1685  ,  euded  in  1688  .  and  lasted   3  yrs. 


THE  REVOLUTION  -16 
The  Ueign  of  William  III.  and  I 
Mary  11.  | 

38.     (Comprist 
began  in  1689 

d  in  the  concluding  chapter.) 
.  ended  in  1605  .  and  lasted    6  yrs. 

The  Reign  of  William  IIL  . 

ended  in  1702 
ended  in  1714 
ended  in  1727 
ended  in  1760 
ended  in  1820 
ended  in  1830 
ended  in  1837 

and  lasted  13  yrs. 
and  lasted  12  yrs. 
and  lasted  1.'!  yrs. 
and  lasted  .'>:!  yrs. 
and  lasted  00  yrs. 
and  lasted  to  yrs. 
and  lasted   7  yrs. 

The  Reign  of  Anne      

began  ir 
began  in 
began  it 
began  ii 
began  it 
began  ii 
begau  iu 

1702 
1714 
1727 
1700 
1820 
1830 
1837. 

The  Krign  of  George  the  First     . 
The  Ucign  of  George  the  Second  . 
The  Keign  of  George  the  Third    . 
The  Reign  of  George  the  Fourth 
The  Reign  of  William  the  Fourth 
The  Ileigu  of  Victoria     .... 

CHRONOLOGICAL  TABLE,  AND  TABLE  OF  CONTEXTS. 


PAGB 

CHAPTER  I.    ANCIENT  ENGLAND  AND  THE  ROMANS.    From  50  years 
before  Christ,  to  the  Year  of  our  Lord  450 1 

CHAPTER  II.    ANCIENT  ENGLAND  UNDER  THE  EARLY  SAXONS.    From 

the  year  450,  to  the  year  871 12 

CHAPTER  III.    ENGLAND   UNDER   THE   GOOD  SAXON  ALFRED,  AND 
EDWARD  THE  ELDER.    From  the  year  871,  to  theyear  901    ....    18 

CHAPTER  IV.  ENGLAND  UNDER  ATHELSTAN  AND  THE  six  BOY-KINGS. 
From  the  year  925,  to  the  year  1016 25 

CHAPTER  V.    ENGLAND  UNDER  CANUTE  THE  DANE.    From  the  year 
1016,  to  the  year  1035 38 

CHAPTER  VI.    ENGLAND  UNDER  HAROLD  HAREFOOT,  HARDICANUTE, 
AND  EDWARD  THE  CONFESSOR.    From  the  year  1035,  to  the  year  1066    41 

CHAPTER  VII.    ENGLAND  UNDER  HAROLD  THE  SECOND,  AND  CON- 
QUERED BY  THE  NORMANS.    All  in  the  same  year,  1066 50 

CHAPTER  VIII.    ENGLAND  UNDER  WILLIAM  THE  FIRST,  THE  NORMAN 
CONQUEROR.    From  the  year  1066,  to  the  year  1087 55 

CHAPTER  IX.    ENGLAND  UNDER  WILLIAM  THE  SECOND,  CALLED  Ru- 
FUS.    From  the  year  1087,  to  the  year  1100 64 

CHAPTER  X.    ENGLAND  UNDER  HENRY    THE  FIRST,   CALLED  FINE- 
SCHOLAR.    From  the  year  1100,  to  the  year  1135 72 

CHAPTER  XI.    ENGLAND  UNDER  MATILDA  AND  STEPHEN.    From  the 
year  1135,  to  the  year  1154 83 


Vi   CHRONOLOGICAL  TABLE,  AND  TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XII.  Parts  First  and  Second.  ENGLAND  UNDER  HENRY 
THE  SECOND.  From  the  year  1154,  to  the  year  1189 88 

CHAPTER  XIII.  ENGLAND  UNDER  RICHARD  THE  FIRST,  CALLED  THE 
LION-HEART.  From  the  year  1189,  to  the  year  1199 110 

CHAPTER  XIV.  ENGLAND  UNDER  JOHN,  CALLED  LACKLAND.  From 
the  year  1199,  to  the  year  1216 121 

CHAPTER  XV.  ENGLAND  UNDER  HENRY  THE  THIRD.  From  the  year 
1216,  to  the  year  1272 135 

CHAPTER  XVI.  ENGLAND  UNDER  EDWARD  THE  FIRST,  CALLED 
LONGSHANKS.  From  the  year  1272,  to  the  year  1307 149 

CHAPTER  XVII.  ENGLAND  UNDER  EDWARD  THE  SECOND.  From  the 
year  1307,  to  the  year  1327 168 

CHAPTER  XVIII.  ENGLAND  UNDER  EDWARD  THE  THIRD.  From  the 
year  1327,  to  the  year  1377 179 

CHAPTER  XIX.  ENGLAND  UNDER  RICHARD  THE  SECOND.  From  the 
year  1377,  to  the  year  1399 194 

CHAPTER  XX.  ENGLAND  UNDER  HENRY  THE  FOURTH,  CALLED  BOLINO- 
BROKE.  From  the  year  1399,  to  the  year  1413 206 

CHAPTER  XXI.  Parts  First  and  Second.  ENGLAND  UNDER  HENRY 
THE  FIFTH.  From  the  year  1413,  to  the  year  1422 213 

CHAPTER  XXII.  Parts  First,  Second  (The  Story  of  Joan  of  Arc),  and 
Third.  ENGLAND  UNDER  HENRY  THE  SIXTH.  From  the  year  1422, 
to  the  year  1461 225 

CHAPTER  XXHI.  ENGLAND  UNDER  EDWARD  THE  FOURTH.  From 
the  year  1461,  to  the  year  1483 247 

CHAPTER  XXIV.  ENGLAND  UNDER  EDWARD  THE  FIFTH.  For  a  few 
weeks  in  the  year  1483 256 

CHAPTER  XXV.  ENGLAND  UNDER  RICHARD  THE  THIRD.  From  the 
year  1483,  to  the  year  1485 262 


CHRONOLOGICAL  TABLE,  AND  TABLE  OF  CONTENTS,   vii 

CHAPTER  XXVI.  ENGLAND  UNDER  HENRY  THE  SEVENTH.  From  the 
year  1485,  to  the  year  1509 2G7 

CHAPTER  XXVII.  ENGLAND  UNDER  HENRY  THE  EIGHTH,  CALLED 
BLUFF  KING  HAL  AND  BURLY  KING  HARRY.  From  the  year  1509, 
to  the  year  1533 279 

CHAPTER  XXVIII.  ENGLAND  UNDER  HENRY  THE  EIGHTH,  CALLED 
BLUFF  KING  HAL  AND  BURLY  KING  HARRY.  From  the  year  1533, 
to  the  year  1547 293 

CHAPTER  XXLX.  ENGLAND  UNDER  EDWARD  THE  SIXTH.  From  the 
year  1547,  to  the  year  1553 305 

CHAPTER  XXX.  ENGLAND  UNDER  MARY.  From  the  year  1553,  to 
the  year  1558 314 

CHAPTER  XXXI.  Parts  First,  Second,  and  Third.  ENGLAND  UNDER 
ELIZABETH.  From  the  year  1558,  to  the  year  1603 329 

CHAPTER  XXXII.  Parts  First  and  Second.  ENGLAND  UNDER  JAMES 
THE  FIRST.  From  the  year  1603,  to  the  year  1625 357 

CHAPTER  XXXIII.  Parts  First,  Second,  Third,  and  Fourth.  ENGLAND 
UNDER  CHARLES  THE  FIRST.  From  the  year  1625,  to  the  year  1649  .  376 

CHAPTER  XXXIV.  Parts  First  and  'Second.  ENGLAND  UNDER 
OLIVER  CROMWELL.  From  the  year  1649,  to  the  year  1660  ....  409 

CHAPTER  XXXV.  Parts  First  and  Second.  ENGLAND  UNDER  CHARLES 
THE  SECOND,  CALLED  THE  MERRY  MONARCH.  From  the  year  1660, 
to  the  year  1685 428 

CHAPTER  XXXVI.  ENGLAND  UNDER  JAMES  THE  SECOND.  From 
the  year  1685,  to  the  year  1688 453 

CHAPTER  XXXVII.    CONCLUSION.   From  the  year  1688,  to  the  year  1837  469 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  DRUIDS Frontispiece 

ROWENA   AND   VORTIGERN 13 

ALFRED  PROMISED  THE  MSS.  BY  HIS  MOTHER    ....  18 

THE  MURDER  OF  EDWARD  IN  978 31 

HAROLD'S  BODY  FOUND 54 

AZELIN  FORBIDDING  THE  BURIAL  OF  WlLLIAM    ....  62 

ESCAPE  OF  THE  EMPRESS  MAUD 84 

THE  CRUSADERS'  MARCH 113 

HUBERT  DE  BURGH  AWAITING  HIS  ENEMIES 138 

ATTEMPT  ON  EDWARD'S  LIFE 150 

SHAKESPEARE'S  TOMB 172 

DEATH  OF  EDWARD  III 191 

BODY  OF  RICHARD  II.  INTERRED  AT  WESTMINSTER     .     .  205 

THE  MAID  OF  ORLEANS 230 

CONFESSION  OF  PERKIN  WARBECK 275 

HENRY  COMMANDED  THE  ASTONISHED  PRELATE  TO  CELE- 
BRATE HIS  MARRIAGE 292 

DEATH  OF  ANNE  ASKEW 308 

ELIZABETH'S  CORONATION  PROCESSION 329 

NAVAL  ENGAGEMENT,  TIME  OF  ELIZABETH 352 

EXECUTION  OF  SIR  WALTER  RALEIGH 372 

ARREST  OF  THE  KING 400 

"YOU  CANNOT  PASS,"  SAID  THE  SENTINELS 424 

THE  GREAT  FIRE  IN  LONDON 436 

DEATH  OF  CHARLES  II 452 


A 
CHILD'S    HISTORY    OF   ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  I. 

ANCIENT   ENGLAND   AND   THE    ROMANS. 

IF  }TOU  look  at  a  Map  of  the  World,  3'ou  will  see,  in  the 
left-hand  upper  corner  of  the  Eastern  Hemisphere,  two  Islands 
lying  in  the  sea.  They  are  England  and  Scotland,  and  Ire- 
land. England  and  Scotland  form  the  greater  part  of  these 
Islands.  Ireland  is  the  next  in  size.  The  little  neighboring 
islands,  which  are  so  small  upon  the  Map  as  to  be  mere  dots, 
are  chiefly  little  bits  of  Scotland  —  broken  off,  I  dare  say,  in 
the  course  of  a  great  length  of  time,  by  the  power  of  the 
restless  water. 

In  the  old  days,  a  long,  long  while  ago,  before  Our  Saviour 
was  born  on  earth  and  lay  asleep  in  a  manger,  these  Islands 
were  in  the  same  place,  and  the  stormy  sea  roared  round 
them,  just  as  it  roars  now.  But  the  sea  was  not  alive,  then, 
with  great  ships  and  brave  sailors,  sailing  to  and  from  all 
parts  of  the  world.  It  was  very  lonely.  The  Islands  lay 
solitary,  in  the  great  expanse  of  water.  The  foaming  waves 
dashed  against  their  cliffs,  and  the  bleak  winds  blew  over 
their  forests  ;  but  the  winds  and  waves  brought  no  adventur- 
ers to  land  upon  the  Islands,  and  the  savage  Islanders  knew 
nothing  of  the  rest  of  the  world,  and  the  rest  of  the  world 
knew  nothing  of  them. 

It  is  supposed  that  the  Phoenicians,  who  were  an  ancient 
people,  famous  for  carrying  on  trade,  came  in  ships  to  these 

1 


2  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

Islands,  and  found  that  they  produced  tin  and  lead  ;  both  very 
useful  things,  as  you  know,  and  both  produced  to  this  very 
hour  upon  the  sea-coast.  The  most  celebrated  tin  mines  in 
Cornwall  are,  still,  close  to  the  sea.  One  of  them,  which  I 
have  seen,  is  so  close  to  it  that  it  is  hollowed  out  underneath 
the  ocean  ;  and  the  miners  say,  that  in  stormy  weather,  when 
they  are  at  work  down  in  that  deep  place,  they  can  hear  the 
noise  of  the  waves  thundering  above  their  heads.  So,  the 
Phosnicians,  coasting  about  the  Islands,  would  come,  without 
much  difficulty,  to  where  the  tin  and  lead  were. 

The  Phoenicians  traded  with  the  Islanders  for  these  metals, 
and  gave  the  Islanders  some  other  useful  things  in  exchange. 
The  Islanders  were,  at  first,  poor  savages,  going  almost  na- 
ked, or  only  dressed  in  the  rough  skins  of  beasts,  and  stain- 
ing their  bodies,  as  other  savages  do,  with  colored  earths  and 
the  juices  of  plants.  But  the  Phoenicians,  sailing  over  to  the 
opposite  coasts  of  France  and  Belgium,  and  saying  to  the  peo- 
ple there,  "We  have  been  to  those  white  cliffs  across  the 
water,  which  you  can  see  in  fine  weather,  and  from  that 
country,  which  is  called  BRITAIN,  we  bring  this  tin  and  lead," 
tempted  some  of  the  French  and  Belgians  to  come  over  also. 
These  people  settled  themselves  on  the  south  coast  of  Eng- 
land, which  is  now  called  Kent ;  and,  although  they  were  a 
rough  people  too,  they  taught  the  savage  Britons  some  useful 
arts,  and  improved  that  part  of  the  Islands.  It  is  probable 
that  other  people  came  over  from  Spain  to  Ireland,  and  set- 
tled there. 

Thus,  by  little  and  little,  strangers  became  mixed  with  the 
Islanders,  and  the  savage  Britons  grew  into  a  wild,  bold  peo- 
ple ;  almost  savage,  still,  especially  in  the  interior  of  the  coun- 
try away  from  the  sea  where  the  foreign  settlers  seldom  went ; 
but  hardy,  brave,  and  strong. 

The  whole  country  was  covered  with  forests  and  swamps. 
The  greater  part  of  it  was  very  misty  and  cold.  There  were 
no  roads,  no  bridges,  no  streets,  no  houses  that  you  would 
think  deserving  of  the  name.  A  town  was  nothing  but  a 


ANCIENT  ENGLAND  AND   THE  EOMANS.  3 

collection  of  straw-covered  huts,  hidden  in  a  thick  wood,  with 
a  ditch  all  round,  and  a  low  wall,  made  of  mud,  or  the  trunks 
of  trees  placed  one  upon  another.  The  people  planted  little 
or  no  corn,  but  lived  upon  the  flesh  of  their  flocks  and  cattle. 
They  made  no  coins,  but  used  metal  rings  for  money.  They 
were  clever  in  basket-work,  as  savage  people  often  are  ;  and 
they  could  make  a  coarse  kind  of  cloth,  and  some  ver}'  bad 
earthenware.  But  in  building  fortresses  they  were  much  more 
clever. 

They  made  boats  of  basket-work,  covered  with  the  skins  of 
animals,  but  seldom,  if  ever,  ventured  far  from  the  shore. 
They  made  swords,  of  copper  mixed  with  tin ;  but  these 
swords  were  of  an  awkward  shape,  and  so  soft  that  a  heavy 
blow  would  bend  one.  They  made  light  shields,  short  pointed 
daggers,  and  spears  —  which  they  jerked  back  after  they  had 
thrown  them  at  an  enemy,  by  a  long  strip  of  leather  fastened 
to  the  stem.  The  butt-end  was  a  rattle,  to  frighten  an  ene- 
my's horse.  The  ancient  Britons,  being  divided  into  as  many 
as  thirty  or  forty  tribes,  each  commanded  by  its  own  little 
king,  were  constantly  fighting  with  one  another,  as  savage 
people  usually  do,  and  they  always  fought  with  these  wea- 
pons. 

They  were  very  fond  of  horses.  The  standard  of  Kent  was 
the  picture  of  a  white  horse.  They  could  break  them  in  and 
manage  them  wonderfully  well.  Indeed,  the  horses  (of 
which  they  had  an  abundance,  though  they  were  rather  small) 
were  so  well  taught  in  those  days,  that  they  can  scarcely  be 
said  to  have  improved  since ;  though  the  men  are  so  much 
wiser.  They  understood,  and  obej'ed,  every  word  of  com- 
mand ;  and  would  stand  still  by  themselves,  in  all  the  din 
and  noise  of  battle,  while  their  masters  went  to  fight  on  foot. 
The  Britons  could  not  have  succeeded  in  their  most  re- 
markable art,  without  the  aid  of  these  sensible  and  trusty 
animals.  The  art  I  mean,  is  the  construction  and  manage- 
ment of  war-chariots  or  cars,  for  which  they  have  ever  beeii 
celebrated  in  history.  Each  of  the  best  sort  of  these  chariots, 


4  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF   ENGLAND. 

not  quite  breast  high  in  front,  and  open  at  the  back,  con- 
tained one  man  to  drive,  and  two  or  three  others  to  fight  — 
all  standing  up.  The  horses  who  drew  them  were  so  well 
trained,  that  the}7  would  tear  at  full  gallop,  over  the  most 
stony  ways,  and  even  through  the  woods  ;  dashing  down  their 
master's  enemies  beneath  their  hoofs,  and  cutting  them  to 
pieces  with  the  blades  of  swords  or  scythes,  which  were 
fastened  to  the  wheels,  and  stretched  out  beyond  the  car  on 
each  side,  for  that  cruel  purpose.  In  a  moment,  while  at  full 
speed,  the  horses  would  stop,  at  the  driver's  command.  The 
men  within  would  leap  out,  deal  blows  about  them  with  their 
swords  like  hail,  leap  on  the  horses,  on  the  pole,  spring  back 
into  the  chariots  anyhow ;  and,  as  soon  as  they  were  safe, 
the  horses  tore  away  again. 

The  Britons  had  a  strange  and  terrible  religion,  called  the 
Religion  of  the  Druids.  It  seems  to  have  been  brought 
over,  in  very  early  times  indeed,  from  the  opposite  country 
of  France,  anciently  called  Gaul,  and  to  have  mixed  up  the 
worship  of  the  Serpent,  and  of  the  sun  and  moon,  with  the 
worship  of  some  of  the  Heathen  Gods  and  Goddesses. 
Most  of  its  ceremonies  were  kept  secret  by  the  priests,  the 
Druids,  who  pretended  to  be  enchanters,  and  who  carried 
magicians'  wands,  and  wore,  each  of  them,  about  his  neck, 
what  he  told  the  ignorant  people  was  a  Serpent's  egg  in  a 
golden  case.  But  it  is  certain  that  the  Druidical  ceremo- 
nies included  the  sacrifice  of  human  victims,  the  torture  of 
some  suspected  criminals,  and,  on  particular  occasions,  even 
the  burning  alive  in  immense  wicker  cages,  of  a  number  of 
men  and  animals  together.  The  Druid  Priests  had  some  kind 
of  veneration  for  the  Oak,  and  for  the  mistletoe  —  the  same 
plant  that  we  hang  up  in  houses  at  Christmas  Time  now  — 
when  its  white  berries  grew  upon  the  Oak.  They  met  to- 
gether in  dark  woods,  which  they  called  sacred  groves ;  and 
there  they  instructed,  in  their  mysterious  arts,  young  men 
who  came  to  them  as  pupils,  and  who  sometimes  stayed  with 
them  as  long  as  twenty  years. 


ANCIENT  ENGLAND  AND   THE  ROMANS.  5 

These  Druids  built  great  Temples  and  altars,  open  to  the 
sky,  fragments  of  some  of  which  are  yet  remaining.  Stone- 
henge,  on  Salisbury  Plain,  in  Wiltshire,  is  the  most  extraor- 
dinary of  these.  Three  curious  stones,  called  Kits  Coty 
House,  on  Bluebell  Hill,  near  Maidstone,  in  Kent,  form  an- 
other. We  know,  from  examination  of  the  great  blocks  of 
which  such  buildings  are  made,  that  they  could  not  have  been 
raised  without  the  aid  of  some  ingenious  machines,  which  are 
common  now,  but  which  the  ancient  Britons  certainly  did  not 
use  in  making  their  own  uncomfortable  houses.  I  should  not 
wonder  if  the  Druids,  and  their  pupils  who  stayed  with  them 
twenty  years,  knowing  more  than  the  rest  of  the  Britons,  kept 
the  people  out  of  sight  while  they  made  these  buildings,  and 
then  pretended  that  they  built  them  by  magic.  Perhaps 
they  had  a  hand  in  the  fortresses  too ;  at  all  events,  as  they 
were  very  powerful,  and  very  much  believed  in,  and  as  they 
made  and  executed  the  laws,  and  paid  no  taxes,  I  don't  won- 
der that  they  liked  their  trade.  And,  as  they  persuaded  the 
people  the  more  Druids  there  were,  the  better  off  the  people 
would  be,  I  don't  wonder  that  there  were  a  good  many  of 
them.  But  it  is  pleasant  to  think  that  there  are  no  Druids, 
now,  who  go  on  in  that  way,  and  pretend  to  carry  Enchanters' 
Wands  and  Serpents'  Eggs  —  and  of  course  there  is  nothing 
of  the  kind,  anywhere. 

Such  was  the  improved  condition  of  the  ancient  Britons, 
fifty-five  years  before  the  birth  of  Our  Saviour,  when  the  Ro- 
mans, under  their  great  General,  Julius  Caesar,  were  masters 
of  all  the  rest  of  the  known  world.  Julius  Caesar  had  then  just 
conquered  Gaul ;  and  hearing,  in  Gaul,  a  good  deal  about  the 
opposite  Island  with  the  white  cliffs,  and  about  the  bravery 
of  the  Britons  who  inhabited  it  —  some  of  whom  had  been 
fetched  over  to  help  the  Gauls  in  the  war  against  him  —  he  re- 
solved, as  he  was  so  near,  to  come  and  conquer  Britain  next. 

So,  Julius  Caesar  came  sailing  over  to  this  island  of  ours, 
with  eighty  vessels  and  twelve  thousand  men.  And  he  came 
from  the  French  coast  between  Calais  and  Boulogne,  "  be- 


6  A   CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

cause  thence  was  the  shortest  passage  into  Britain  ;  "  just  for 
the  same  reason  as  our  steam-boats  now  take  the  same  track, 
every  day.  He  expected  to  conquer  Britain  easily :  but  it 
was  not  such  easy  work  as  he  supposed  —  for  the  bold  Britons 
fought  most  bravely ;  and,  what  with  not  having  his  horse- 
soldiers  with  him  (for  they  had  been  driven  back  by  a  storm), 
and  what  with  having  some  of  his  vessels  dashed  to  pieces  by 
a  high  tide  after  they  were  drawn  ashore,  he  ran  great  risk 
of  being  totally  defeated.  However,  for  once  that  the  bold 
Britons  beat  him,  he  beat  them  twice  ;  though  not  so  soundly 
but  that  he  was  very  glad  to  accept  their  proposals  of  peace, 
and  go  away. 

But,  in  the  spring  of  the  next  year,  he  came  back ;  this 
time,  with  eight  hundred  vessels  and  thirty  thousand  men. 
The  British  tribes  chose,  as  their  general-in-chief,  a  Briton, 
whom  the  Romans  in  their  Latin  language  called  CASSIVEL- 
LAUXCS,  but  whose  British  name  is  supposed  to  have  been 
CASWALLON.  A  brave  general  he  was,  and  well  he  and  his 
soldiers  fought  the  Roman  army !  So  well,  that  whenever  in 
that  war  the  Roman  soldiers  saw  a  great  cloud  of  dust,  and 
heard  the  rattle  of  the  rapid  British  chariots,  thej-  trembled 
in  their  hearts.  Besides  a  number  of  smaller  battles,  there 
was  a  battle  fought  near  Canterbury,  in  Kent ;  there  was  a 
battle  fought  near  Chertsey,  in  Surrey ;  there  was  a  battle 
fought  near  a  marshy  little  town  in  a  wood,  the  capital  of  that 
part  of  Britain  which  belonged  to  CASSIVELLAUNUS,  and  which 
was  probably  near  what  is  now  St.  Albans,  in  Hertfordshire. 
However,  brave  CASSIVELLAUXUS  had  the  worst  of  it,  on  the 
whole  ;  though  he  and  his  men  always  fought  like  lions.  As 
the  other  British  chiefs  were  jealous  of  him,  and  were  alwa}-s 
quarrelling  with  him,  and  with  one  another,  he  gave  up,  and 
proposed  peace.  Julius  Caesar  was  ver}r  glad  to  grant  peace 
easily,  and  to  go  awa}'  again  with  all  his  remaining  ships  and 
men.  He  had  expected  to  find  pearls  in  Britain,  and  he  may 
have  found  a  few  for  anything  I  know ;  but,  at  all  events,  he 
found  delicious  oysters,  and  I  am  sure  he  found  tough  Britons 


ANCIENT   ENGLAND   AND   THE   ROMANS.  7 

—  of  whom,  I  dare  say,  he  made  the  same  complaint  as  Na- 
poleon Bonaparte  the  great  French  General  did,  eighteen 
hundred  years  afterwards,  when  he  said  they  were  such  un- 
reasonable fellows  that  they  never  knew  when  they  were 
beaten.  They  never  did  know,  I  believe,  and  never  will. 

Nearly  a  hundred  years  passed  on,  and  all  that  time  there 
was  peace  in  Britain.  The  Britons  improved  their  towns  and 
mode  of  life  :  became  more  civilized,  travelled,  and  learnt  a 
great  deal  from  the  Gauls  and  Romans.  At  last,  the  Roman 
Emperor,  Claudius,  sent  AULUS  PLAUTIUS,  a  skilful  general, 
with  a  might}'  force,  to  subdue  the  Island,  and  shortly  after- 
wards arrived  himself.  They  did  little  ;  and  OSTORIUS  SCAP- 
ULA, another  general,  came.  Some  of  the  British  Chiefs  of 
Tribes  submitted.  Others  resolved  to  fight  to  the  death. 
Of  these  brave  men,  the  bravest  was  CAUACTACUS  or  CARADOC, 
who  gave  battle  to  the  Romans,  with  his  army,  among  the 
mountains  of  North  Wales.  "  This  day,"  said  he  to  his  sol- 
diers, "decides  the  fate  of  Britain!  Your  liberty,  or  your 
eternal  slavery,  dates  from  this  hour.  Remember  your  brave 
ancestors,  who  drove  the  great  Caesar  himself  across  the  sea  !  " 
On  hearing  these  words,  his  men,  with  a  great  shout,  rushed 
upon  the  Romans.  But  the  strong  Roman  swords  and  armor 
were  too  much  for  the  weaker  British  weapons  in  close  con- 
flict. The  Britons  lost  the  day.  The  wife  and  daughter  of 
the  brave  CARACTACUS  were  taken  prisoners  ;  his  brothers  de- 
livered themselves  up  ;  he  himself  was  betrayed  into  the  hands 
of  the  Romans  by  his  false  and  base  stepmother ;  and  they 
carried  him,  and  all  his  family,  in  triumph  to  Rome. 

But  a  great  man  will  be  great  in  misfortune,  great  in  prison, 
great  in  chains.  His  noble  air,  and  dignified  endurance  of 
distress,  so  touched  the  Roman  people  who  thronged  the 
streets  to  see  him,  that  he  and  his  family  were  restored  to 
freedom.  No  one  knows  whether  his  great  heart  broke,  and 
he  died  in  Rome,  or  whether  he  ever  returned  to  his  own 
dear  country.  English  oaks  have  grown  up  from  acorns,  and 
withered  away,  when  they  were  hundreds  of  years  old —  and 


8  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

other  oaks  have  sprung  up  in  their  places,  and  died  too,  very 
aged  —  since  the  rest  of  the  history  of  the  brave  CARACTACUS 
was  forgotten. 

Still,  the  Britons  would  not  yield.  They  rose  again  and 
again,  and  died  by  thousands,  sword  in  hand.  They  rose, 
on  every  possible  occasion.  SUETONIUS,  another  Roman 
general,  came,  and  stormed  the  Island  of  Anglesey  (then 
called  MONA)  which  was  supposed  to  be  sacred,  and  he  burnt 
the  Druids  in  their  own  wicker  cages,  by  their  own  fires. 
But,  even  while  he  was  in  Britain,  with  his  victorious  troops, 
the  BRITONS  rose.  Because  BOADICEA,  a  British  queen,  the 
widow  of  the  King  of  the  Norfolk  and  Suffolk  people,  resisted 
the  plundering  of  her  property  by  the  Romans  who  were  set- 
tled in  England,  she  was  scourged,  by  order  of  CATUS,  a  Ro- 
man officer ;  and  her  two  daughters  were  shamefully  insulted 
in  her  presence,  and  her  husband's  relations  were  made  slaves. 
To  avenge  this  injury,  the  Britons  rose,  with  all  their  might 
and  rage.  They  drove  CATUS  into  Gaul ;  they  laid  the  Roman 
possessions  waste ;  they  forced  the  Romans  out  of  London, 
then  a  poor  little  town,  but  a  trading  place  ;  they  hanged, 
burnt,  crucified,  and  slew  by  the  sword,  seventy  thousand 
Romans  in  a  few  days.  SUETONIUS  strengthened  his  army, 
and  advanced  to  give  them  battle.  They  strengthened  their 
army,  and  desperately  attacked  his,  on  the  field  where  it  was 
strongly  posted.  Before  the  first  charge  of  the  Britons  was 
made,  BOADICEA,  in  a  war-chariot,  with  her  fair  hair  stream- 
ing in  the  wind,  and  her  injured  daughters  lying  at  her  feet, 
drove  among  the  troops,  and  cried  to  them  for  vengeance  on 
their  oppressors,  the  licentious  Romans.  The  Britons  fought 
to  the  last ;  but  they  were  vanquished  with  great  slaughter, 
and  the  unhappy  queen  took  poison. 

Still,  the  spirit  of  the  Britons  was  not  broken.  When 
SUETONIUS  left  the  country,  they  fell  upon  his  troops,  and  re- 
took the  Island  of  Anglesey.  AGRICOLA  came,  fifteen  or 
twenty  years  afterwards,  and  retook  it  once  more,  and  de- 
voted seven  years  to  subduing  the  country,  especially  that 


ANCIENT   ENGLAND   AND   THE   ROMANS.  9 

part  of  it  which  is  now  called  SCOTLAND  ;  but  its  people,  the 
Caledonians,  resisted  him  at  every  inch  of  ground.  They 
fought  the  bloodiest  battles  with  him  ;  they  killed  their  very 
wives  and  children,  to  prevent  his  making  prisoners  of  them  ; 
they  fell,  fighting,  in  such  great  numbers  that  certain  hills  in 
Scotland  are  yet  supposed  to  be  vast  heaps  of  stones  piled  up 
above  their  graves.  HADRIAN  came  thirty  years  afterwards, 
and  still  they  resisted  him.  SEVERUS  came,  nearly  a  hundred 
years  afterwards,  and  they  worried  his  great  army  like  dogs, 
and  rejoiced  to  see  them  die,  by  thousands,  in  the  bogs  and 
swamps.  CARACALLA,  the  son  and  successor  of  SEVERUS, 
did  the  most  to  conquer  them,  for  a  time  ;  but  not  by  force 
of  arms.  He  knew  how  little  that  would  do.  He  y ielded  up 
a  quantit}7  of  land  to  the  Caledonians,  and  gave  the  Britons 
the  same  privileges  as  the  Romans  possessed.  There  was 
peace,  after  this,  for  seventy  years. 

Then  new  enemies  arose.  They  were  the  SAXONS,  a  fierce, 
seafaring  people  from  the  countries  to  the  North  of  the  Rhine, 
the  great  river  of  Germany  on  the  banks  of  which  the  best 
grapes  grow  to  make  the  German  wine.  They  began  to  come, 
in  pirate  ships,  to  the  sea-coast  of  Gaul  and  Britain,  and  to 
plunder  them.  They  were  repulsed  by  QUJAUSIUS,  a  native 
either  of  Belgium  or  of  Britain,  who  was  appointed  by  the 
Romans  to  the  command,  and  under  whom  the  Britons  first 
began  to  fight  upon  the  sea.  But,  after  this  time,  they  re- 
newed their  ravages.  A  few  years  more,  and  the  Scots 
(which  was  then  the  name  for  the  people  of  Ireland),  and 
the  Picts,  a  northern  people,  began  to  make  frequent  plunder- 
ing incursions  into  the  South  of  Britain.  All  these  attacks 
were  repeated,  at  intervals,  during  two  hundred  years,  and 
through  a  long  succession  of  Roman  Emperors  and  Chiefs ; 
during  all  which  length  of  time,  the  Britons  rose  against  the 
Romans,  over  and  over  again.  At  last  in  the  days  of  the 
Roman  HONORIUS,  when  the  Roman  power  all  over  the  world 
was  fast  declining,  and  when  Rome  wanted  all  her  soldiers  at 
home,  the  Romans  abandoned  all  hope  of  conquering  Britain, 


10  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

and  went  away.  And  still,  at  last,  as  at  first,  the  Britons 
rose  against  them,  in  their  old  brave  manner;  for,  a  very 
little  while  before,  they  had  turned  away  the  Roman  magis- 
trates, and  declared  themselves  an  independent  people. 

Five  hundred  years  had  passed,  since  Julius  Csesar's  first 
invasion  of  the  Island,  when  the  Romans  departed  from  it  for 
ever.  In  the  course  of  that  time,  although  they  had  been 
the  cause  of  terrible  fighting  and  bloodshed,  they  had  done 
much  to  improve  the  condition  of  the  Britons.  They  had 
made  great  military  roads ;  they  had  built  forts ;  they  had 
taught  them  how  to  dress,  and  arm  themselves,  much  better 
than  they  had  ever  known  how  to  do  before  ;  they  had  refined 
the  whole  British  way  of  living.  AGRICOLA  had  built  a  great 
wall  of  earth,  more  than  seventy  miles  long,  extending  from 
Newcastle  to  beyond  Carlisle,  for  the  purpose  of  keeping  out 
the  Picts  and  Scots  ;  HADRIAN  had  strengthened  it ;  SEVERUS, 
finding  it  much  in  want  of  repair,  had  built  it  afresh  of  stone. 
Above  all,  it  was  in  the  Roman  time,  and  by  means  of  Roman 
ships,  that  the  Christian  Religion  was  first  brought  into  Brit- 
ain, and  its  people  first  taught  the  great  lesson  that,  to  be 
good  in  the  sight  of  God,  they  must  love  their  neighbors  as 
themselves,  and  do  unto  others  as  they  would  be  done  \>y. 
The  Druids  declared  that  it  was  very  wicked  to  believe  in  any 
such  thing,  and  cursed  all  the  people  who  did  believe  it  very 
heartily.  But,  when  the  people  found  that  the}-  were  none 
the  better  for  the  blessings  of  the  Druids,  and  none  the  worse 
for  the  curses  of  the  Druids,  but,  that  the  sun  shone  and  the 
rain  fell  without  consulting  the  Druids  at  all,  they  just  began 
to  think  that  the  Druids  were  mere  men,  and  that  it  signified 
very  little  whether  they  cursed  or  blessed.  After  which,  the 
pupils  of  the  Druids  fell  off  greatly  in  numbers,  and  the 
Druids  took  to  other  trades. 

Thus  I  have  come  to  the  end  of  the  Roman  time  in  England. 
It  is  but  little  that  is  known  of  those  five  hundred  years  ;  but 
some  remains  of  them  are  still  found.  Often,  when  laborers 
are  digging  up  the  ground,  to  make  foundations  for  houses 


ANCIENT  ENGLAND   AND   THE   ROMANS.  11 

or  churches,  the3r  light  on  rusty  money  that  once  belonged  to 
the  Romans.  Fragments  of  plates  from  which  the}-  ate,  of 
goblets  from  which  they  drank,  and  of  pavement  on  which 
they  trod,  are  discovered  among  the  earth  that  is  broken  by 
the  plough,  or  the  dust  that  is  crumbled  by  the  gardener's 
spade.  Wells  that  the  Romans  sunk,  still  yield  water  ;  roads 
that  the  Romans  made,  form  part  of  our  highways.  In  some 
old  battle-fields,  British  spear-heads  and  Roman  armor  have 
been  found,  mingled  together  in  decay,  as  they  fell  in  the 
thick  pressure  of  the  fight.  Traces  of  Roman  camps  over- 
grown with  grass,  and  of  mounds  that  are  the  burial-places 
of  heaps  of  Britons,  are  to  be  seen  in  almost  all  parts  of  the 
country.  Across  the  bleak  moors  of  Northumberland,  the 
wall  of  SEVERUS,  overrun  with  moss  and  weeds,  still  stretches, 
a  strong  ruin  ;  and  the  shepherds  and  their  dogs  lie  sleeping 
on  it  in  the  summer  weather.  On  Salisbury  Plain,  Stonehenge 
yet  stands  :  a  monument  of  the  earlier  time  when  the  Roman 
name  was  unknown  in  Britain,  and  when  the  Druids,  with 
their  best  magic  wands,  could  not  have  written  it  in  the  sands 
of  the  wild  sea-shore. 


12  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER    II. 

ANCIENT  ENGLAND  UNDER  THE  EARLY  SAXONS. 

THE  Romans  had  scarcely  gone  awa}r  from  Britain,  when 
the  Britons  began  to  wish  they  had  never  left  it.  For,  the 
Roman  soldiers  being  gone,  and  the  Britons  being  much  re- 
duced in  numbers  by  their  long  wars,  the  Picts  and  Scots 
came  pouring  in,  over  the  broken  and  unguarded  wall  of 
SEVERUS,  in  swarms.  They  plundered  the  richest  towns,  and 
killed  the  people  ;  and  came  back  so  often  for  more  booty  and 
more  slaughter,  that  the  unfortunate  Britons  lived  a  life  of 
terror.  As  if  the  Picts  and  Scots  were  not  bad  enough  on 
land,  the  Saxons  attacked  the  islanders  by  sea ;  and,  as  if 
something  more  were  still  wanting  to  make  them  miserable, 
the}'  quarrelled  bitterly  among  themselves  as  to  what  prayers 
they  ought  to  say,  and  how  they  ought  to  say  them.  The 
priests,  being  very  angry  with  one  another  on  these  questions, 
cursed  one  another  in  the  heartiest  manner  ;  and  (uncommonly 
like  the  old  Druids)  cursed  all  the  people  whom  they  could 
not  persuade.  So,  altogether,  the  Britons  were  very  badly 
off,  you  may  believe. 

They  were  in  such  distress,  in  short,  that  they  sent  a  letter 
to  Rome  entreating  help  —  which  they  called  the  Groans  of 
the  Britons;  and  in  which  they  said,  "The  barbarians  chase 
us  into  the  sea,  the  sea  throws  us  back  upon  the  barbarians, 
and  we  have  only  the  hard  choice  left  us  of  perishing  by  the 
sword,  or  perishing  by  the  waves."  But  the  Romans  could 
not  help  them,  even  if  they  were  so  inclined ;  for  the}'  had 
enough  to  do  to  defend  themselves  against  their  own  enemies, 
who  were  then  very  fierce  and  strong.  At  last,  the  Britons, 


ANCIENT   ENGLAND   UNDER  THE   EAKLY   SAXONS.          13 

unable  to  bear  their  hard  condition  any  longer,  resolved  to 
make  peace  with  the  Saxons,  and  to  invite  the  Saxons  to 
come  into  their  country,  and  help  them  to  keep  out  the  Picts 
and  Scots. 

It  was  a  British  Prince  named  VORTIGERN  who  took  this 
resolution,  and  who  made  a  treaty  of  friendship  with  HENGIST 
and  HOKSA,  two  Saxon  chiefs.  Both  of  these  names,  in  the 
old  Saxon  language,  signify  Horse ;  for  the  Saxons,  like 
many  other  nations  in  a  rough  state,  were  fond  of  giving  men 
the  names  of  animals,  as  Horse,  Wolf,  Bear,  Hound.  The 
Indians  of  North  America,  —  a  very  inferior  people  to  the 
Saxons,  though  —  do  the  same  to  this  day. 

HENGIST  and  HORSA  drove  out  the  Picts  and  Scots  ;  and 
VORTIGERN,  being  grateful  to  them  for  that  service,  made  no 
opposition  to  their  settling  themselves  in  that  part  of  England 
which  is  called  the  Isle  of  Thanet,  or  to  their  inviting  over 
more  of  their  countrymen  to  join  them.  But  HENGIST  had  a 
beautiful  daughter  named  ROWENA  ;  and,  when  at  a  feast, 
she  filled  a  golden  goblet  to  the  brim  with  wine,  and  gave  it 
to  VORTIGERN,  saying  in  a  sweet  voice,  "  Dear  King,  thy 
health  !  "  the  King  fell  in  love  with  her.  My  opinion  is,  that 
the  cunning  HENGIST  meant  him  to  do  so,  in  order  that  the 
Saxons  might  have  greater  influence  with  him  ;  and  that  the 
fair  ROWENA  came  to  that  feast,  golden  goblet  and  all,  on 
purpose. 

At  any  rate,  they  were  married ;  and,  long  afterwards, 
whenever  the  King  was  angry  with  the  Saxons,  or  jealous  of 
their  encroachments,  ROWENA  would  put  her  beautiful  arms 
round  his  neck,  and  softly  say,  "Dear  King,  they  are  my 
people  !  Be  favorable  to  them,  as  you  loved  that  Saxon  girl 
who  gave  .you  the  golden  goblet  of  wine  at  the  feast !  "  And, 
reall}',  I  don't  see  how  the  King  could  help  himself. 

Ah  !  We  must  all  die  !  In  the  course  of  3rears,  VORTIGERN 
died  —  he  was  dethroned,  and  put  in  prison,  first,  I  am 
afraid ;  and  ROWENA  died  ;  and  generations  of  Saxons  and 
Britons  died ;  and  events  that  happened  during  a  long,  long 


14  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

time,  would  have  been  quite  forgotten  but  for  the  tales  and 
songs  of  the  old  Bards,  who  used  to  go  about  from  feast  to 
feast,  with  their  white  beards,  recounting  the  deeds  of  their 
forefathers.  Among  the  histories  of  which  they  sang  and 
talked,  there  was  a  famous  one,  concerning  the  braver3*  and 
virtues  of  KING  ARTHUR,  supposed  to  have  been  a  British 
Prince  in  those  old  times.  But,  whether  such  a  person  really 
Irved,  or  whether  there  were  several  persons  whose  histories 
came  to  be  confused  together  under  that  one  name,  or  whether 
all  about  him  was  invention,  no  one  knows. 

I  will  tell  you,  shortly, what  is  most  interesting  in  the  early 
Saxon  times,  as  the}'  are  described  in  these  songs  and  stories 
of  the  Bards. 

In,  and  long  after,  the  days  of  VORTIGERN,  fresh  bodies  of 
Saxons,  under  various  chiefs,  came  pouring  into  Britain. 
One  body,  conquering  the  Britons  in  the  East,  and  settling 
there,  called  their  kingdom  Essex  ;  another  boclv  settled  in 
the  West  and  called  their  kingdom  Wessex ;  the  Northfolk, 
or  Norfolk  people,  established  themselves  in  one  place ;  the 
Southfolk,  or  Suffolk  people  established  themselves  in  an- 
other ;  and  gradually  seven  kingdoms  or  states  arose  in 
England,  which  were  called  the  Saxon  Heptarchy.  The  poor 
Britons,  falling  back  before  these  crowds  of  fighting  men 
whom  they  had  innocently  invited  over  as  friends,  retired  into 
Wales  and  the  adjacent  country  ;  into  Devonshire,  and  into 
Cornwall.  Those  parts  of  England  long  remained  uncon- 
quered.  And  in  Cornwall  now  —  where  the  sea-coast  is  very 
gloomy,  steep,  and  rugged  —  where,  in  the  dark  winter-time, 
ships  have  often  been  wrecked  close  to  the  land,  and  every 
soul  on  board  has  perished  —  where  the  winds  and  waves 
howl  drearity,  and  split  the  solid  rocks  into  arches  and  cav- 
erns — there  are  very  ancient  ruins,  which  the  people  call  the 
ruins  of  KING  ARTHUR'S  Castle. 

Kent  is  the  most  famous  of  the  seven  Saxon  kingdoms, 
because  the  Christian  religion  was  preached  to  the  Saxons 
there  (who  domineered  over  the  Britons  too  much,  to  care  for 


ANCIENT   ENGLAND   UNDER   THE   EARLY   SAXONS.          15 

what  they  said  about  their  religion,  or  anything  else)  by 
AUGUSTINE,  a  monk  from  Rome.  KING  ETHELBERT,  of 
Kent,  was  soon  converted  ;  and  the  moment  he  said  he  was 
a  Christian,  his  courtiers  all  said  they  were  Christians  ;  after 
which,  ten  thousand  of  his  subjects  said  they  were  Chris- 
tians too.  AUGUSTINE  built  a  little  church,  close  to  this 
King's  palace,  on  the  ground  now  occupied  by  the  beautiful 
cathedral  of  Canterbury.  SEBERT,  the  King's  nephew,  built 
on  a  mudd}r  marslry  place  near  London,  where  there  had 
been  a  temple  to  Apollo,  a  church  dedicated  to  Saint  Peter, 
which  is  now  Westminster  Abbey.  And,  in  London  itself, 
on  the  foundation  of  a  temple  to  Diana,  he  built  another 
little  church,  which  has  risen  up,  since  that  old  time,  to  be 
St.  Paul's. 

After  the  death  of  ETHELBERT,  EDWIN,  King  of  Northum- 
bria,  who  was  such  a  good  king  that  it  was  said  a  woman  or 
child  might  openly  carry  a  purse  of  gold,  in  his  reign,  with- 
out fear,  allowed  his  child  to  be  baptized,  and  held  a  great 
council  to  consider  whether  he  and  his  people  should  all  be 
Christians  or  not.  It  was  decided  that  they  should  be.  COIFI, 
the  chief  priest  of  the  old  religion,  made  a  great  speech  on 
the  occasion.  In  this  discourse,  he  told  the  people  that  he 
had  found  out  the  old  gods  to  be  impostors.  "  I  am  quite 
satisfied  of  it,"  he  said.  "  Look  at  me  !  I  have  been  serv- 
ing them  all  my  life,  and  they  have  done  nothing  for  me  ; 
whereas,  if  they  had  been  really  powerful,  the}'  could  not 
have  decently  done  less,  in  return  for  all  I  have  done  for 
them,  than  make  my  fortune.  As  they  have  never  made  my 
fortune,  I  am  quite  convinced  they  are  impostors  !  "  When 
this  singular  priest  had  finished  speaking,  he  hastily  armed 
himself  with  sword  and  lance,  mounted  a  war-horse,  rode  at 
a  furious  gallop  in  sight  of  all  the  people  to  the  temple,  and 
flung  his  lance  against  it  as  an  insult.  From  that  time,  the 
Christian  religion  spread  itself  among  the  Saxons,  and  be- 
came their  faith. 

The  next  very  famous  prince  was  EGBERT.     He  lived  about 


16  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

a  hundred  and  fifty  years  afterwards,  and  claimed  to  have  a 
better  right  to  the  throne  of  Wessex  than  BEOKTRIC,  another 
Saxon  prince  who  was  at  the  head  of  that  kingdom,  and  who 
married  EDBURGA,  the  daughter  of  OFFA,  king  of  another  of 
the  seven  kingdoms.  This  QUEEN  EDBURGA  was  a  handsome 
murderess,  who  poisoned  people  when  they  offended  her. 
One  day,  she  mixed  a  cup  of  poison  for  a  certain  noble  be- 
longing to  the  court ;  but  her  husband  drank  of  it  too,  by 
mistake,  and  died.  Upon  this,  the  people  revolted,  in  great 
crowds  ;  and  running  to  the  palace,  and  thundering  at  the 
gates,  cried,  "Down  with  the  wicked  queen,  who  poisons 
men  ! "  They  drove  her  out  of  the  country,  and  abolished 
the  title  she  had  disgraced.  When  years  had  passed  away, 
some  travellers  came  home  from  Italy,  and  said  that  in  the 
town  of  Pavia  they  had  seen  a  ragged  beggar-woman,  who 
had  once  been  handsome,  but  was  then  shrivelled,  bent,  and 
yellow,  wandering  about  the  streets,  crying  for  bread ;  and 
that  this  beggar-woman  was  the  poisoning  English  queen. 
It  was,  indeed,  EDBURGA  ;  and  so  she  died,  without  a  shelter 
for  her  wretched  head. 

EGBERT,  not  considering  himself  safe  in  England,  in  con- 
sequence of  his  having  claimed  the  crown  of  Wessex  (for 
he  thought  his  rival  might  take  him  prisoner  and  put  him  to 
death),  sought  refuge  at  the  court  of  CHARLEMAGNE,  king  of 
France.  On  the  death  of  BEORTRIC,  so  unhappily  poisoned 
by  mistake,  EGBERT  came  back  to  Britain  ;  succeeded  to  the 
throne  of  Wessex ;  conquered  some  of  the  other  monarehs 
of  the  seven  kingdoms  ;  added  their  territories  to  his  own  ; 
and,  for  the  first  time,  called  the  country  over  which  he 
ruled,  ENGLAND. 

And  now,  new  enemies  arose,  who,  for  a  long  time,  trou- 
bled England  sorely.  These  were  the  Northmen,  the  people 
of  Denmark  and  Norway,  whom  the  English  called  the  Danes. 
They  were  a  warlike  people,  quite  at  home  upon  the  sea  ;  not 
Christians  ;  veiy  daring  and  cruel.  They  came  over  in  ships, 
and  plundered  and  burned  wheresoever  they  landed.  Ouce,, 


ANCIENT  ENGLAND   UNDER  THE   EARLY   SAXONS. 


17 


they  beat  EGBERT  in  battle.  Once,  EGBERT  beat  them.  But 
they  cared  no  more  for  being  beaten  than  the  English  them- 
selves. In  the  four  following  short  reigns,  of  ETIIKLWULF, 
and  his  sons,  ETHELBALD,  ETHELBERT,  and  ETIIELKED,  they 
came  back,  over  and  over  again,  burning  and  plundering, 
and  laying  England  waste.  In  the  last-mentioned  reign, 
they  seized  EDMUND,  King  of  East  England,  and  bound  him 
to  a  tree.  Then,  they  proposed  to  him  that  he  should  change 
his  religion  ;  but  he,  being  a  good  Christian,  steadily  refused. 
Upon  that,  they  beat  him,  made  cowardly  jests  upon  him,  all 
defenceless  as  he  was,  shot  arrows  at  him,  and,  finally  struck 
off  his  head.  It  is  impossible  to  say  whose  head  they  might 
have  struck  off  next,  but  for  the  death  of  KING  ETIIELHED 
from  a  wound  he  had  received  in  fighting  against  them,  and 
the  succession  to  his  throne  of  the  best  and  wisest  king  that 
ever  lived  in  Ens-land. 


18  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER    III. 

ENGLAND  UNDER  THE  GOOD  SAXON,  ALFRED. 

ALFRED  THE  GREAT  was  a  young  man,  three-and-twenty 
}rears  of  age,  when  he  became  king.  Twice  in  his  child- 
hood, he  had  been  taken  to  Rome,  where  the  Saxon  nobles 
were  in  the  habit  of  going  on  journeys  which  they  sup- 
posed to  be  religious ;  and,  once,  he  had  stayed  for  some 
time  in  Paris.  Learning,  however,  was  so  little  cared  for, 
then,  that  at  twelve  years  old  he  had  not  been  taught  to 
read :  although,  of  the  sons  of  KING  ETHELWULF,  he,  the 
youngest,  was  the  favorite.  But  he  had  —  as  most  men 
who  grow  up  to  be  great  and  good  are  generally  found  to 
have  had  —  an  excellent  mother ;  and,  one  day,  this  lady, 
whose  name  was  OSBURGA,  happened,  as  she  was  sitting 
among  her  sons,  to  read  a  book  of  Saxon  poetry.  The  art 
of  printing  was  not  known  until  long  and  long  after  that 
period,  and  the  book,  which  was  written,  was  what  is  called 
"  illuminated,"  with  beautiful  bright  -letters,  richly  painted. 
The  brothers  admiring  it  very  much,  their  mother  said,  "I 
will  give  it  to  that  one  of  you  four  princes  who  first  learns 
to  read."  ALFRED  sought  out  a  tutor  that  very  day,  applied 
himself  to  learn  with  great  diligence,  and  soon  won  the  book. 
He  was  proud  of  it,  all  his  life. 

This  great  king,  in  the  first  year  of  his  reign,  fought  nine 
battles  with  the  Danes.  He  made  some  treaties  with  them 
too,  by  which  the  false  Danes  swore  the}"  would  quit  the 
country.  The}*  pretended  to  consider  that  they  had  taken  a 
very  solemn  oath,  in  swearing  this  upon  the  holy  bracelets 
that  they  wore,  and  which  were  always  buried  with  them 


ALFRED   THE   GREAT.  19 

when  they  died ;  but  they  cared  little  for  it,  for  they  thought 
nothing  of  breaking  oaths  and  treaties  too,  as  soon  as  it 
suited  their  purpose,  and  coming  back  again  to  fight,  plunder, 
and  burn,  as  usual.  One  fatal  winter,  in  the  fourth  year  of 
KING  ALFRED'S  reign,  they  spread  themselves  in  great  num- 
bers over  the  whole  of  England  ;  and  so  dispersed  and  routed 
the  King's  soldiers  that  the  King  was  left  alone,  and  was 
obliged  to  disguise  himself  as  a  common  peasant,  and  to 
take  refuge  in  the  cottage  of  one  of  his  cowherds  who  did 
not  know  his  face. 

Here,  KING  ALFRED,  while  the  Danes  sought  him  far  and 
near,  was  left  alone  one  day,  by  the  cowherd's  wife,  to  watch 
some  cakes  which  she  put  to  bake  upon  the  hearth.  But, 
being  at  work  upon  his  bow  and  arrows,  with  which  he 
hoped  to  punish  the  false  Danes  when  a  brighter  time  should 
come,  and  thinking  deeply  of  his  poor  unhappy  subjects 
whom  the  Danes  chased  through  the  land,  his  noble  mind 
forgot  the  cakes,  and  they  were  burnt.  "  What!  "  said  the 
cowherd's  wife,  who  scolded  him  well  when  she  came  back, 
and  little  thought  she  was  scolding  the  King,  "  you  will  be 
ready  enough  to  eat  them  by-and-by,  and  }-et  you  cannot 
watch  them,  idle  dog?" 

At  length,  the  Devonshire  men  made  head  against  a  new 
host  of  Danes  who  landed  on  their  coast ;  killed  their  chief, 
and  captured  their  flag ;  on  which  was  represented  the  like- 
ness of  a  Raven  —  a  very  fit  bird  for  a  thievish  army  like 
that,  I  think.  The  loss  of  their  standard  troubled  the  Danes 
greatly,  for  the}T  believed  it  to  be  enchanted  —  woven  by  the 
three  daughters  of  one  father  in  a  single  afternoon  —  and 
they  had  a  story  among  themselves  that  when  ihey  were  vic- 
torious in  battle,  the  Raven  stretched  his  wings  and  seemed 
to  fly ;  and  that  when  they  were  defeated,  he  would  droop. 
He  had  good  reason  to  droop,  now,  if  he  could  have  done 
anything  half  so  sensible ;  for,  KING  ALFRED  joined  the 
Devonshire  men ;  made  a  camp  with  them  on  a  piece  of  firm 
ground  in  the  midst  of  a  bog  in  Somersetshire  ;  and  prepared 


20  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

for  a  great  attempt  for  vengeance  on  the  Danes,  and  the 
deliverance  of  his  oppressed  people. 

But,  first,  as  it  was  important  to  know  how  numerous 
those  pestilent  Danes  were,  and  how  they  were  fortified, 
KING  ALFRED,  being  a  good  musician,  disguised  himself  as 
a  glee-man  or  minstrel,  and  went,  with  his  harp,  to  the  Da- 
nish camp.  He  played  and  sang  in  the  very  tent  of  GUTHRUM 
the  Danish  leader,  and  entertained  the  Danes  as  they  ca- 
roused. While  he  seemed  to  think  of  nothing,  but  his  music, 
he  was  watchful  of  their  tents,  their  arms,  their  discipline, 
everything  that  he  desired  to  know.  And  right  soon  did  this 
great  king  entertain  them  to  a  different  tune  ;  for,  summon- 
ing all  his  true  followers  to  meet  him  at  an  appointed  place, 
where  they  received  him  with  joyful  shouts  and  tears,  as  the 
monarch  whom  many  of  them  had  given  up  for  lost  or  dead, 
he  put  himself  at  their  head,  marched  on  the  Danish  camp, 
defeated  the  Danes  with  great  slaughter,  and  besieged  them 
for  fourteen  days  to  prevent  their  escape.  But,  being  as 
merciful  as  he  was  good  and  brave,  he  then,  instead  of  kill- 
ing them,  proposed  peace :  on  condition  that  they  should  al- 
together depart  from  that  Western  part  of  England,  and 
settle  in  the  East ;  and  that  GUTHRUM  should  become  a 
Christian,  in  remembrance  of  the  Divine  religion  which  now 
taught  his  conqueror,  the  noble  ALFRED,  to  forgive  the  enemy 
who  had  so  often  injured  him.  This,  GCTHRUM  did.  At  his 
baptism,  KING  ALFRED  was  his  godfather.  And  GUTHIU-M 
was  an  honorable  chief  who  well  deserved  that  clemency ; 
for,  ever  afterwards,  he  was  loyal  and  faithful  to  the  king. 
The  Danes  under  him  were  faithful  too.  They  plundered 
and  burned  no  more,  but  worked  like  honest  men.  They 
ploughed,  and  sowed,  and  reaped,  and  led  good  honest  Eng- 
lish lives.  And  I  hope  the  children  of  those  Danes  played, 
many  a  time,  with  Saxon  children  in  the  sunny  fields  ;  and 
that  Danish  young  men  fell  in  love  with  Saxon  girls,  and 
married  them  ;  and  that  English  travellers,  benighted  at  the 
doors  of  Danish  cottages,  often  went  in  for  shelter  until  morn- 


ALFRED   THE   GREAT.  21 

ing ;  and  that  Danes  and  Saxons  sat  bjr  the  red  fire,  friends, 
talking  of  KING  ALFRED  THE  GREAT. 

All  the  Danes  were  not  like  these  under  GUTIIRUM  :  for, 
after  some  years,  more  of  them  came  over,  in  the  old  plun- 
dering and  burning  way  —  among  them  a  fierce  pirate  of  the 
name  of  HASTINGS,  who  had  the  boldness  to  sail  up  the 
Thames  to  Gravesend,  with  eighty  ships.  For  three  years, 
there  was  a  war  with  these  Danes  ;  and  there  was  a  famine  in 
the  country,  too,  and  a  plague,  both  upon  human  creatures 
and  beasts.  But  KING  ALFRED,  whose  mighty  heart  neA'er 
failed  him,  built  large  ships  nevertheless,  with  which  to  pur- 
sue the  pirates  on  the  sea  ;  and  he  encouraged  his  soldiers,  by 
his  brave  example,  to  fight  valiantly  against  them  on  the 
shore.  At  last,  he  drove  them  all  away  ;  and  then  there  was 
repose  in  England. 

As  great  and  good  in  peace,  as  he  was  great  and  good  in 
war,  KING  ALFRED  never  rested  from  his  labors  to  improve 
his  people.  He  loved  to  talk  with  clever  men,  and  with  trav- 
ellers from  foreign  countries,  and  to  write  down  what  they 
told  him,  for  his  people  to  read.  He  had  studied  Latin  after 
learning  to  read  English,  and  now  another  of  his  labors  was, 
to  translate  Latin  books  into  the  English-Saxon  tongue,  that 
his  people  might  be  interested,  and  improved  by  their  con- 
tents. He  made  just  laws,  that  they  might  live  more  happily 
and  freelj" ;  he  turned  away  all  partial  judges,  that  no  wrong 
might  be  done  them  ;  he  was  so  careful  of  their  property,  and 
punished  robbers  so  severely,  that  it  was  a  common  thing  to 
say  that  under  the  great  KING  ALFRED,  garlands  of  golden 
chains  and  jewels  might  have  hung  across  the  streets,  and  no 
man  would  have  touched  one.  He  founded  schools ;  he  pa- 
tiently heard  causes  himself  in  his  Court  of  Justice  ;  the  great 
desires  of  his  heart  were,  to  do  right  to  all  his  subjects,  and 
to  leave  England  better,  wiser,  happier  in  all  ways,  than  he 
found  it.  His  industry  in  these  efforts  was  quite  astonishing. 
Every  day  he  divided  into  certain  portions,  and  in  each  por- 
tion devoted  himself  to  a  certain  pursuit.  That  he  might 


22  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

divide  his  time  exactly,  he  had  wax  torches  or  candles  made, 
which  were  all  of  the  same  size,  were  notched  across  at  regu- 
lar distances,  and  were  always  kept  burning.  Thus,  as  the 
candles  burned  down,  he  divided  the  day  into  notches,  almost 
as  accuratel}'  as  we  now  divide  it  into  hours  upon  the  clock. 
But  when  the  candles  were  first  invented,  it  was  found  that 
the  wind  and  draughts  of  air,  blowing  into  the  palace  through 
the  doors  and  windows,  and  through  the  chinks  in  the  walls, 
caused  them  to  gutter  and  burn  unequally.  To  prevent  this, 
the  King  had  them  put  into  cases  formed  of  wood  and  white 
horn.  And  these  were  the  first  laiithorns  ever  made  in 
England. 

All  this  time,  he  was  afflicted  with  a  terrible  unknown  dis- 
ease, which  caused  him  violent  and  frequent  pain  that  nothing 
could  relieve.  He  bore  it,  as  he  had  borne  all  the  troubles 
of  his  life,  like  a  brave  good  man,  until  he  was  fifty-three 
years  old ;  and  then,  having  reigned  thirty  years,  he  died. 
He  died  in  the  year  nine  hundred  and  one ;  but,  long  ago  as 
that  is,  his  fame,  and  the  love  and  gratitude  with  which  his 
subjects  regarded  him,  are  freshly  remembered  to  the  pres- 
ent hour. 

In  the  next  reign,  which  was  the  reign  of  EDWARD  sur- 
named  THE  ELDER,  who  was  chosen  in  council  to  succeed,  a 
nephew  of  KING  ALFRED  troubled  the  country  by  trying  to 
obtain  the  throne.  The  Danes  in  the  P^ast  of  England  took 
part  with  this  usurper  (perhaps  because  they  had  honored  his 
uncle  so  much,  and  honored  him  for  his  uncle's  sake),  and 
there  was  hard  fighting ;  but  the  King,  with  the  assistance  of 
his  sister,  gained  the  da}%  and  reigned  in  peace  for  four  and 
twenty  years.  He  gradually  extended  his  power  over  the 
whole  of  England,  and  so  the  Seven  Kingdoms  were  united 
into  one. 

When  England  thus  became  one  kingdom,  ruled  over  by 
one  Saxon  King,  the  Saxons  had  been  settled  in  the  country 
more  than  four  hundred  and  fifty  years.  Great  changes  had 
taken  place  in  its  customs  during  that  time.  The  Saxons 


ALFRED  THE   GREAT.  23 

were  still  greedy  eaters  and  great  drinkers,  and  their  feasts 
wore  often  of  a  noisy  and  drunken  kind  ;  but  many  new  com- 
forts and  even  elegances  had  become  known,  and  were  fast 
increasing.  Hangings  for  the  walls  of  rooms,  where,  in  these 
modern  days,  we  paste  up  paper,  are  known  to  have  been 
sometimes  made  of  silk,  ornamented  with  birds  and  flowers  in 
needlework.  Tables  and  chairs  were  curiously  carved  in  dif- 
ferent woods ;  were  sometimes  decorated  with  gold  or  silver  ; 
sometimes  even  made  of  those  precious  metals.  Knives  and 
spoons  were  used  at  table  ;  golden  ornaments  were  worn  — 
with  silk  and  cloth,  and  golden  tissues  and  embroideries  ; 
dishes  were  made  of  gold  and  silver,  brass  and  bone.  There 
were  varieties  of  drinking-horns,  bedsteads,  musical  instru- 
ments. A  harp  was  passed  round,  at  a  feast,  like  the  drink- 
ing-bowl,  from  guest  to  guest ;  and  each  one  usually  sang  or 
played  when  his  turn  came.  The  weapons  of  the  Saxons 
were  stoutly  made,  and  among  them  was  a  terrible  iron  ham- 
mer that  gave  deadly  blows,  and  was  long  remembered.  The 
Saxons  themselves  were  a  handsome  people.  The  men  were 
proud  of  their  long  fair  hair,  parted  on  the  forehead  ;  their 
ample  beards,  their  fresh  complexions,  and  clear  eyes.  The 
beauty  of  the  Saxon  women  filled  all  England  with  a  new 
delight  and  grace. 

I  have  more  to  tell  of  the  Saxons  yet,  but  I  stop  to  say 
this  now,  because  under  the  GREAT  ALFRED,  all  the  best 
points  of  the  English-Saxon  character  were  first  encouraged, 
and  in  him  first  shown.  It  has  been  the  greatest  character 
among  the  nations  of  the  earth.  Wherever  the  descendants 
of  the  Saxon  race  have  gone,  have  sailed,  or  otherwise  made 
their  way,  even  to  the  remotest  regions  of  the  world,  they 
have  been  patient,  persevering,  never  to  be  broken  in  spirit, 
never  to  be  turned  aside  from  enterprises  on  which  they  have 
resolved.  In  Europe,  Asia,  Africa,  America,  the  whole  world 
over  ;  in  the  desert,  in  the  forest, _on  the  sea ;  scorched  by  a 
burning  sun,  or  frozen  by  ice  that  never  melts ;  the  Saxon 
blood  remains  unchanged.  Wheresoever  that  race  goes,  there 


24  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

law,  and  industry,  and  safety  for  life  and  property,  and  all 
the  great  results  of  steady  perseverance,  are  certain  to  arise. 
I  pause  to  think  with  admiration,  of  the  noble  king  who, 
in  his  single  person,  possessed  all  the  Saxon  virtues.  Whom 
misfortune  could  not  subdue,  whom  prosperity  could  not 
spoil,  whose  perseverance  nothing  could  shake.  Who  was 
hopeful  in  defeat,  and  generous  in  success.  Who  loved  jus- 
tice, freedom,  truth,  and  knowledge.  Who,  in  his  care  to 
instruct  his  people,  probably  did  more  to  preserve  the  beauti- 
ful old  Saxon  language,  than  I  can  imagine.  Without  whom, 
the  English  tongue  in  which  I  tell  this  story  might  have 
wanted  half  its  meaning.  As  it  is  said  that  his  spirit  still 
inspires  some  of  our  best  English  laws,  so,  let  you  and  I  pray, 
that  it  may  animate  our  English  hearts,  at  least  to  this  —  to 
resolve,  when  we  see  any  of  our  fellow-creatures  left  in  igno- 
rance, that  we  will  do  our  best,  while  life  is  in  us,  to  have 
them  taught;  and  to  tell  those  rulers  whose  duty  it  is  to 

o         * 

teach  them,  and  who  neglect  their  duty,  that  they  have  prof- 
ited very  little  by  all  the  years  that  have  rolled  away  since 
the  year  nine  hundred  and  one,  and  that  they  are  far  behind 
the  bright  example  of  KING  ALFRED  THE  GKEAT. 


ATHELSTAN  AND   THE   SIX  BOY-KINGS.  25 


CHAPTER    IV. 

ENGLAND   UNDER   ATHELSTAN   AND   THE    SIX   BOY-KINGS. 

ATHELSTAN,  the  son  of  Edward  the  Elder,  succeeded  that 
king.  He  reigned  only  fifteen  years  r  but  he  remembered 
the  glory  of  his  grandfather,  the  great  Alfred,  and  gov- 
erned England  well.  He  reduced  the  turbulent  people  of 
Wales,  and  obliged  them  to  pay  him  a  tribute  in  money,  and 
in  cattle,  and  to  send  him  their  best  hawks  and  hounds.  He 
was  victorious  over  the  Cornish  men,  who  were  not  yet  quiet 
under  the  Saxon  government.  He  restored  such  of  the  old 
laws  as  were  good,  and  had  fallen  into  disuse ;  made  some 
wise  new  laws,  and  took  care  of  the  poor  and  weak.  A 
strong  alliance,  made  against  him  by  ANLAF  a  Danish  prince, 
CONSTANTINE  King  of  the  Scots,  and  the  people  of  North 
Wales,  he  broke  and  defeated  in  one  great  battle,  long  famous 
for  the  vast  numbers  slain  in  it.  After  that,  he  had  a  quiet 
reign ;  the  lords  and  ladies  about  him  had  leisure  to  become 
polite  and  agreeable  ;  and  foreign  princes  were  glad  (as  they 
have  sometimes  been  since)  to  come  to  England  on  visits  to 
the  English  court. 

When  Athelstan  died,  at  forty-seven  years  old,  his  brother 
EDMUND,  who  was  only  eighteen,  became  king.  He  was  the 
first  of  six  boy-kings,  as  you  will  presently  know. 

They  called  him  the  Magnificent,  because  he  showed  a 
taste  for  improvement  and  refinement.  But  he  was  beset  by 
the  Danes,  and  had  a  short  and  troubled  reign,  which  came, 
to  a  troubled  end.  One  night,  when  he  was  feasting  in  his 
hall,  and  had  eaten  much  and  drunk  deep,  he  saw,  among 
the  compan}',  a  noted  robber  named  LEOF,  who  had  been 


26  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

banished  from  England.  Made  very  angry  by  the  boldness 
of  this  man,  the  King  turned  to  his  cup-bearer,  and  said, 
"  There  is  a  robber  sitting  at  the  table  yonder,  who,  for  his 
crimes,  is  an  outlaw  in  the  land  —  a  hunted  wolf,  whose  life 
any  man  may  take,  at  any  time.  Command  that  robber  to 
depart !  "  "I  will  not  depart  !  "  said  Leof.  "  No?  "  cried 
the  King.  "  No,  by  the  Lord  !  "  said  Leof.  Upon  that  the 
King  rose  from  his  seat,  and,  making  passionately  at  the 
robber,  and  seizing  him  by  his  long  hair,  tried  to  throw  him 
down.  But  the  robber  had  a  dagger  underneath  his  cloak, 
and,  in  the  scuffle,  stabbed  the  King  to  death.  That  done, 
he  set  his  back  against  the  wall,  and  fought  so  desperately, 
that  although  he  was  soon  cut  to  pieces  by  the  King's  armed 
men,  and  the  wall  and  pavement  were  splashed  with  his 
blood,  yet  it  was  not  before  he  had  killed  and  wounded  many 
of  them.  You  may  imagine  what  rough  lives  the  kings  of 
those  times  led,  when  one  of  them  could  struggle,  half  drunk, 
with  a  public  robber  in  his  own  dining-hall,  and  be  stabbed 
in  the  presence  of  the  company  who  ate  and  drank  with  him. 

Then  succeeded  the  boy-king  EDRED,  who  was  weak  and 
sickty  in  body,  but  of  a  strong  mind.  And  his  armies  fought 
the  Northmen,  the  Danes,  and  Norwegians,  or  the  Sea-Kings, 
as  they  were  called,  and  beat  them  for  the  time.  And,  in 
nine  j-ears,  Edred  died,  and  passed  away. 

Then  came  the  boy-king  EDWY,  fifteen  j-ears  of  age ;  but 
the  real  king,  who  had  the  real  power,  was  a  monk  named 
DUNSTAN — a  clever  priest,  a  little  mad,  and  not  a  little 
proud  and  cruel. 

Dunstan  was  then  Abbot  of  Glastonbury  Abbey,  whither 
the  body  of  King  Edmund  the  Magnificent  was  carried,  to  be 
buried.  While  yet  a  boy,  he  had  got  out  of  his  bed  one 
night  (being  then  in  a  fever),  and  walked  about  Glastonbury 
Church  when  it  was  under  repair ;  and,  because  he  did  not 
tumble  off  some  scaffolds  that  were  there,  and  break  his 
neck,  it  was  reported  that  he  had  been  shown  over  the  build-  • 
ing  by  an  angel.  He  had  also  made  a  harp  that  was  said  to 


ATHELSTAN   AND   THE   SIX  BOY-KINGS.  27 

play  of  itself — which  it  very  likely  did,  as  JEolian  Harps, 
which  are  played  by  the  wind,  and  are  understood  now, 
always  do.  For  these  wonders  he  had  been  once  denounced 
by  his  enemies,  who  were  jealous  of  his  favor  with  the  late 
King  Athelstan,  as  a  magician  ;  and  he  had  been  waylaid, 
bound  hand  and  foot,  and  thrown  into  a  marsh.  But  he  got 
out  again,  somehow,  to  cause  a  great  deal  of  trouble  yet. 

The  priests  of  those  days  were,  generally,  the  only  scholars. 
They  were  learned  in  many  things.  Having  to  make  their 
own  convents  and  monasteries  on  uncultivated  grounds  that 
were  granted  to  them  by  the  Crown,  it  was  necessary  that 
they  should  be  good  farmers  and  good  gardeners,  or  their 
lands  would  have  been  too  poor  to  support  them.  For  the 
decoration  of  the  chapels  where  they  prayed,  and  for  the 
comfort  of  the  refectories  where  they  ate  and  drank,  it  was 
necessary  that  there  should  be  good  carpenters,  good  smiths, 
good  painters,  among  them.  For  their  greater  safety  in 
sickness  and  accident,  living  alone  by  themselves  in  solitary 
places,  it  was  necessary  that  they  should  study  the  virtues  of 
plants  and  herbs,  and  should  know  how  to  dress  cuts,  burns, 
scalds,  and  bruises,  and  how  to  set  broken  limbs.  Accord- 
ingly, they  taught  themselves,  and  one  another,  a  great 
variety  of  useful  arts  ;  and  became  skilful  in  agriculture, 
medicine,  surgery,  and  handicraft.  And  when  they  wanted 
the  aid  of  any  little  piece  of  machinery,  which  would  be  sim- 
ple enough  now,  but  was  marvellous  then,  to  impose  a  trick 
upon  the  poor  peasants,  the}7  knew  very  well  how  to  make 
it ;  and  did  make  it  many  a  time  and  often,  I  have  no  doubt. 
Dunstan,  Abbot  of  Glastonbury  Abbey,  was  one  of  the 
most  sagacious  of  these  monks.  He  was  an  ingenious  smith, 
and  worked  at  a  forge  in  a  little  cell.  This  cell  was  made 
too  short  to  admit  of  his  lying  at  full  length  when  he  went 
sleep  —  as  if  that  did  any  good  to  anybody !  —  and  he 
ised  to  tell  the  most  extraordinary  lies  about  demons  and 
spirits,  who,  he  said,  came  there  to  persecute  him.  For 
istance,  he  related  that,  one  day  when  he  was  at  work,  the 


28  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

devil  looked  in  at  the  little  window,  and  tried  to  tempt  him 
to  lead  a  life  of  idle  pleasure  ;  whereupon,  having  his  pincers 
in  the  fire,  red  hot,  he  seized  the  devil  by  the  nose,  and  put 
him  to  such  pain,  that  his  bellowings  were  heard  for  miles 
and  miles.  Some  people  are  inclined  to  think  this  nonsense 
a  part  of  Dunstan's  madness  (for  his  head  never  quite  recov- 
ered the  fever) ,  but  I  think  not.  I  observe  that  it  induced 
the  ignorant  people  to  consider  him  a  holy  man,  and  that 
it  made  him  very  powerful.  Which  was  exactly  what  he 
always  wanted. 

On  the  day  of  the  coronation  of  the  handsome  boj'-king 
Edwy,  it  was  remarked  by  ODO,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury 
(who  was  a  Dane  by  birth),  that  the  King  quietly  left  the 
coronation  feast,  while  all  the  company  were  there.  Odo, 
much  displeased,  sent  his  friend  Dunstan  to  seek  him.  Dun- 
stan  finding  him  in  the  company  of  his  beautiful  3"oung  wife 
ELGIVA,  and  her  mother  ETHELGIVA,  a  good  and  virtuous 
lady,  not  only  grossly  abused  them,  but  dragged  the  young 
King  back  into  the  feasting-hall  by  force.  Some,  again, 
think  Dunstan  did  this  because  the  young  King's  fair  wife 
was  his  own  cousin,  and  the  monks  objected  to  people  marry- 
ing their  own  cousins ;  but  I  believe  he  did  it  because  he 
was  an  imperious,  audacious,  ill-conditioned  priest,  who  hav- 
ing loved  a  young  lady  himself  before  he  became  a  sour 
monk,  hated  all  love  now,  and  everything  belonging  to  it. 

The  young  King  was  quite  old  enough  to  feel  this  insult. 
Dunstan  had  been  Treasurer  in  the  last  reign,  and  he  soon 
charged  Dunstan  with  having  taken  some  of  the  last  King's 
money.  The  Glastonbury  Abbot  fled  to  Belgium  (very  nar- 
rowly escaping  some  pursuers  who  were  sent  to  put  out  his 
eyes,  as  you  will  wish  they  had,  when  you  read  what  follows) , 
and  his  abbey  was  given  to  priests  who  were  married  ;  whom 
he  alwaj's,  both  before  and  afterwards,  opposed.  But  he 
quickly  conspired  with  his  friend,  Odo  the.  Dane,  to  set  up 
the  King's  young  brother,  EDGAK,  as  his  rival  for  the  throne ; 
and,  not  content  with  this  revenge,  he  caused  the  beautiful 


ATHELSTAN  AND  THE   SIX  BOY-KINGS.  29 

queen  Elgiva,  though  a  lovely  girl  of  only  seventeen  or 
eighteen,  to  be  stolen  from  one  of  the  Royal  Palaces,  branded 
in  the  cheek  with  a  red-hot  iron,  and  sold  into  slavery  in 
Ireland.  But  the  Irish  people  pitied  and  befriended  her; 
and  they  said,  "Let  us  restore  the  girl-queen  to  the  boy- 
king,  and  make  the  young  lovers  happj7 !  "  and  they  cured 
her  of  her  cruel  wound,  and  sent  her  home  as  beautiful  as 
before.  But  the  villain  Dunstan,  and  that  other  villain,  Odo, 
caused  her  to  be  waylaid  at  Gloucester  as  she  was  joyfully 
hurrying  to  join  her  husband,  and  to  be  hacked  and  hewn 
with  swords,  and  to  be  barbarously  maimed  and  lamed,  and 
left  to  die.  When  Edwy  the  Fair  (his  people  called  him  so, 
because  he  was  so  young  and  handsome)  heard  of  her  dreadful 
fate,  he  died  of  a  broken  heart ;  and  so  the  pitiful  story  of 
the  poor  young  wife  and  husband  ends  !  Ah !  Better  to  be 
two  cottagers  in  these  better  times,  than  king  and  queen  of 
England  in  those  bad  days,  though  never  so  fair ! 

Then  came  the  boy-king  EDGAR,  called  the  Peaceful,  fifteen 
years  old.  Dunstan,  being  still  the  real  king,  drove  all  mar- 
ried priests  out  of  the  monasteries  and  abbeys,  and  replaced 
them  by  solitary  monks  like  himself,  of  the  rigid  order  called 
the  Benedictines.  He  made  himself  Archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury, for  his  greater  glory  ;  and  exercised  such  power  over 
the  neighboring  British  princes,  and  so  collected  them  about 
the  King,  that  once,  when  the  King  held  his  court  at  Chester, 
and  went  on  the  river  Dee  to  visit  the  monastery  of  St.  John, 
the  eight  oars  of  his  boat  were  pulled  (as  the  people  used  to 
delight  in  relating  in  stories  and  songs)  by  eight  crowned 
kings,  and  steered  by  the  King  of  England.  As  Edgar  was 
very  obedient  to  Dunstan  and  the  monks,  they  took  great 
pains  to  represent  him  as  the  best  of  kings.  But  he  was 
really  profligate,  debauched,  and  vicious.  He  once  forcibly 
carried  off  a  young  lady  from  the  convent  at  Wilton ;  and 
Dunstan,  pretending  to  be  very  much  shocked,  condemned 
him  not  to  wear  his  crown  upon  his  head  for  seven  3rears  — 
no  great  punishment,  I  dare  say,  as  it  can  hardly  have  been 


30  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

a  more  comfortable  ornament  to  wear,  than  a  stewpan  with- 
out a  handle.  His  marriage  with  his  second  wife,  ELFRIDA, 
is  one  of  the  worst  events  of  his  reign.  Hearing  of  the  beauty 
of  this  lady,  he  despatched  his  favorite  courtier,  ATIIELWOLD, 
to  her  father's  castle  in  Devonshire,  to  see  if  she  were  really 
as  charming  as  fame  reported.  Now,  she  was  so  exceedingly 
beautiful  that  Athelwold  fell  in  love  with  her  himself,  and 
married  her ;  but  he  told  the  King  that  she  was  only  rich  — 
not  handsome.  The  King,  suspecting  the  truth  when  they 
came  home,  resolved  to  pay  the  newly  married  couple  a  visit ; 
and,  suddenly,  told  Athelwold  to  prepare  for  his  immediate 
coming.  Athelwold,  terrified,  confessed  to  his  3Toung  wife 
what  he  had  said  and  done,  and  implored  her  to  disguise  her 
beauty  by  some  ugly  dress  or  silly  manner,  that  he  might 
be  safe  from  the  King's  anger.  She  promised  that  she 
would ;  but  she  was  a  proud  woman,  who  would  far  rather 
have  been  a  queen  than  the  wife  of  a  courtier.  She  dressed 
herself  in  her  best  dress,  and  adorned  herself  with  her  richest 
jewels ;  and  when  the  King  came,  presently,  he  discovered 
the  cheat.  So,  he  caused  his  false  friend,  Athelwold,  to  be 
murdered  in  a  wood,  and  married  his  widow  —  this  bad 
Elfrida.  Six  or  seven  years  afterwards,  he  died ;  and  was 
buried,  as  if  he  had  been  all  that  the  monks  said  he  was,  in 
the  abbey  of  Glastonbury,  which  he  —  or  Dunstan  for  him  — 
had  much  enriched. 

England,  in  one  part  of  this  reign,  was  so  troubled  by 
wolves,  which,  driven  out  of  the  open  country,  hid  themselves 
in  the  mountains  of  Wales  when  they  were  not  attacking 
travellers  and  animals,  that  the  tribute  payable  by  the  Welsh 
people  was  forgiven  them,  on  condition  of  their  producing, 
every  year,  three  hundred  wolves'  heads.  And  the  Welsh- 
men were  so  sharp  upon  the  wolves,  to  save  their  money,  that 
in  four  years  there  was  not  a  wolf  left. 

Then  came  the  boy -king,  EDWARD,  called  the  Martyr,  from 
the  manner  of  his  death.  Elfrida  had  a  son,  named  ETHEL- 
RED,  for  whom  she  claimed  the  throne  ;  but  Dunstan  did  not 


ATHELSTAN   AND   THE   SIX  BOY-KINGS.  31 

choose  to  favor  him,  and  he  made  Edward  king.  The  boy 
was  hunting,  one  day,  down  in  Dorsetshire,  when  he  rode 
near  to  Corfe  Castle,  where  Elfrida  and  Ethelred  lived. 
Wishing  to  see  them  kindly,  he  rode  awa}"  from  his  attendants 
and  galloped  to  the  castle  gate,  where  he  arrived  at  twilight, 
and  blew  his  hunting-horn.  "  You  are  welcome,  dear  King." 
said  Elfrida,  coming  out,  with  her  brightest  smiles.  "Pray 
you  dismount  and  enter."  "  Not  so,  dear  madam,"  said  the 
King.  "My  company  will  miss  me,  and  fear  that  I  have 
met  with  some  harm.  Please  you  to  give  me  a  cup  of  wine, 
that  I  may  drink  here,  in  the  saddle,  to  you  and  to  my  little 
brother,  and  so  ride  away  with  the  good  speed  I  have  made 
in  riding  here."  Elfrida,  going  in  to  bring  the  wine,  whis- 
pered an  armed  servant,  one  of  her  attendants,  who  stole  out 
of  the  darkening  gateway,  and  crept  round  behind  the  King's 
horse.  As  the  King  raised  the  cup  to  his  lips,  saying, 
"  Health  !  "  to  the  wicked  woman  who  was  smiling  on  him, 
and  to  his  innocent  brother  whose  hand  she  held  in  hers,  and 
who  was  only  ten  years  old,  this  armed  man  made  a  spring 
and  stabbed  him  in  the  back.  He  dropped  the  cup  and 
spui'red  his  horse  away ;  but,  soon  fainting  with  loss  of  blood, 
drooped  from  the  saddle,  and,  in  his  fall,  entangled  one  of 
his  feet  in  the  stirrup.  The  frightened  horse  dashed  on ; 
trailing  his  rider's  curls  upon  the  ground  ;  dragging  his  smooth 
young  face  through  ruts,  and  stones,  and  briers,  and  fallen 
leaves,  and  mud  ;  until  the  hunters,  tracking  the  animal's 
course  by  the  King's  blood,  caught  his  bridle,  and  released 
the  disfigured  body. 

Then  came  the  sixth  and  last  of  the  boy-kings,  ETHELRED, 
whom  Elfrida,  when  he  cried  out  at  the  sight  of  his  murdered 
brother  riding  away  from  the  castle  gate,  unmercifully  beat 
with  a  torch  which  she  snatched  from  one  of  the  attendants. 
The  people  so  disliked  this  boy ,  on  account  of  his  cruel  mother 
and  the  murder  she  had  done  to  promote  him,  that  Dunstan 
would  not  have  had  him  for  king,  but  would  have  made 
EDGITHA,  the  daughter  of  the  dead  King  Edgar,  and  of  the 


32  A  CHILD'S   HISTOKY  OF  ENGLAND. 

lady  whom  he  stole  out  of  the  convent  at  Wilton,  Queen  of 
England,  if  she  would  have  consented.  But  she  knew  the 
stories  of  the  youthful  kings  too  well,  and  would  not  be  per- 
suaded from  the  convent  where  she  lived  in  peace  ;  so,  Dun- 
stan  put  Ethelred  on  the  throne,  having  no  one  else  to  put 
there,  and  gave  him  the  nickname  of  THE  UNREADY  —  know- 
ing that  he  wanted  resolution  and  firmness. 

At  first,  Elfrida  possessed  great  influence  over  the  young 
King,  but,  as  he  grew  older  and  came  of  age,  her  influence 
declined.  The  infamous  woman,  not  having  it  in  her  power 
to  do  any  more  evil,  then  retired  from  court,  and,  according 
to  the  fashion  of  the  time,  built  churches  and  monasteries,  to 
expiate  her  guilt.  As  if  a  church,  with  a  steeple  reaching  to 
the  very  stars,  would  have  been  any  sign  of  true  repentance 
for  the  blood  of  the  poor  boy,  whose  murdered  form  was 
trailed  at  his  horse's  heels  !  As  if  she  could  have  buried  her 
wickedness  beneath  the  senseless  stones  of  the  whole  world, 
piled  up  one  upon  another,  for  the  monks  to  live  in ! 

About  the  ninth  or  tenth  year  of  this  reign,  Dunstan  died. 
He  was  growing  old  then,  but  was  as  stern  and  artful  as 
ever.  Two  circumstances  that  happened  in  connection  with 
him,  in  this  reign  of  Ethelredr  made  a  great  noise.  Once, 
he  was  present  at  a  meeting  of  the  Church,  when  the  question 
was  discussed  whether  priests  should  have  permission  to 
many ;  and,  as  he  sat  with  his  head  hung  down,  apparently 
thinking  about  it,  a  voice  seemed  to  come  out  of  a  crucifix  in 
the  room,  and  warn  the  meeting  to  be  of  his  opinion.  This 
was  some  juggling  of  Dunstan's,  and  was  probably  his  own 
voice  disguised.  But  he  pla3'ed  off  a  worse  juggle  than  that 
soon  afterwards  ;  for,  another  meeting  being  held  on  the  same 
subject,  and  he  and  his  supporters  being  seated  on  one  side 
of  a  great  room,  and  their  opponents  on  the  other,  he  rose 
and  said,  w  To  Christ  himself,  as  Judge,  do  I  commit  this 
cause  !  "  Immediately  on  these  words  being  spoken,  the  floor 
where  the  opposite  party  sat  gave  way,  and  some  were  killed 
and  many  wounded.  You  may  be  pretty  sure  that  it  had 


ATHELSTAN  AND   THE   SIX  BOY-KINGS.  33 

been  weakened  under  Dunstan's  direction,  and  that  it  fell  at 
Dunstan's  signal.  His  part  of  the  floor  did  not  go  down. 
No,  no.  He  was  too  good  a  workman  for  that. 

When  he  died,  the  monks  settled  that  he  was  a  Saint,  and 
called  him  Saint  Dunstan  ever  afterwards.  They  might  just 
as  well  have  settled  that  he  was  a  coach-horse,  and  could  just 
as  easily  have  called  him  one. 

Ethelred  the  Unready  was  glad  enough,  I  da:*e  say,  to  be 
rid  of  this  holy  saint ;  but,  left  to  himself,  he  was  a  poor 
weak  king,  and  his  reign  was  a  reign  of  defeat  and  shame. 
The  restless  Danes,  led  by  SWEYN,  a  son  of  the  King  of  Den- 
mark who  had  quarrelled  with  his  father  and  had  been  ban- 
ished from  home,  again  came  into  England,  and,  }Tear  after 
year,  attacked  and  despoiled  large  towns.  To  coax  these 
sea-kings  away,  the  weak  Ethelred  paid  them  money ;  but, 
the  more  money  he  paid,  the  more  money  the  Danes  wanted. 
At  first,  he  gave  them  ten  thousand  pounds ;  on  their  next 
invasion,  sixteen  thousand  pounds  ;  on  their  next  invasion, 
four  and  twenty  thousand  pounds  :  to  pay  which  large  sums, 
the  unfortunate  English  people  were  heavily  taxed.  But,  as 
the  Danes  still  came  back  and  wanted  more,  he  thought  it 
would  be  a  good  plan  to  many  into  some  powerful  foreign 
family  that  would  help  him  with  soldiers.  So,  in  the  year 
one  thousand  and  two,  he  courted  and  married  Emma,  the 
sister  of  Richard  Duke  of  Normandy  ;  a  lady  who  was  called 
the  Flower  of  Normandy. 

And  now  a  terrible  deed  was  clone  in  England,  the  like  of 
which  was  never  done  on  English  ground  before  or  since. 
On  the  thirteenth  of  November,  in  pursuance  of  secret  in- 
structions sent  by  the  King  over  the  whole  country,  the  inhab- 
itants of  every  town  and  city  armed,  and  murdered  all  the 
Danes  who  were  their  neighbors.  Young  and  old,  babies 
and  soldiers,  men  and  women,  every  Dane  was  killed.  No 
doubt  there  were  among  them  many  ferocious  men  who  had 
done  the  English  great  wrong,  and  whose  pride  and  insolence, 
in  swaggering  in  the  houses  of  the  English  and  insulting  their 

3 


34  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

wives  and  daughters,  had  become  unbearable  ;  but  no  doubt 
there  were  also  among  them  many  peaceful  Christian  Danes 
who  had  married  English  women  and  become  like  English 
men.  They  were  all  slain,  even  to  GUNHILDA,  the  sister  of 
the  King  of  Denmark,  married  to  an  English  lord  ;  who  was 
first  obliged  to  see  the  murder  of  her  husband  and  her  child, 
and  then  was  killed  herself. 

When  the  King  of  the  sea-kings  heard  of  this  deed  of 
blood,  he  swore  that  he  would  have  a  great  revenge.  He 
raised  an  army,  and  a  mightier  fleet  of  ships  than  ever  yet 
had  sailed  to  England ;  and  in  all  his  army  there  was  not  a 
slave  or  an  old  man,  but  every  soldier  was  a  free  man,  and 
the  son  of  a  free  man,  and  in  the  prime  of  life,  and  sworn  to 
be  revenged  upon  the  English  nation,  for  the  massacre  of  that 
dread  thirteenth  of  November,  when  his  countiymen  and 
countrywomen,  and  the  little  children  whom  they  loved,  were 
killed  with  fire  and  sword.  And  so,  the  sea-kings  came  to 
England  in  many  great  ships,  each  bearing  the  flag  of  its  own 
commander.  Golden  eagles,  ravens,  dragons,  dolphins,  beasts 
of  prey,  threatened  England  from  the  prows  of  those  ships,  as 
they  came  onward  through  the  water ;  and  were  reflected  in 
the  shining  shields  that  hung  upon  their  sides.  The  ship  that 
bore  the  standard  of  the  King  of  the  sea-kings  was  carved 
and  painted  like  a  mighty  serpent ;  and  the  King  in  his  anger 
prayed  that  the  Gods  in  whom  he  trusted  might  all  desert 
him,  if  his  serpent  did  not  strike  its  fangs  into  England's 
heart. 

And  indeed  it  did.  For,  the  great  army  landing  from  the 
great  fleet,  near  Exeter,  went  forward,  laying  England  waste, 
and  striking  their  lances  in  the  earth  as  they  advanced,  or 
throwing  them  into  rivers,  in  token  of  their  making  all  the 
island  theirs.  In  remembrance  of  the  black  November  night 
when  the  Danes  were  murdered,  wheresoever  the  invaders 
came,  they  made  the  Saxons  prepare  and  spread  for  them 
great  feasts  ;  and  when  they  had  eaten  those  feasts,  and  had 
drunk  a  curse  to  England  with  wild  rejoicings,  they  drew 


ATHELSTAN   AND   THE   SIX   BOY-KINGS.  35 

their  swords,  and  killed  their  Saxon  entertainers,  and  marched 
on.  For  six  long  years  they  carried  on  this  war :  burning 
the  crops,  farmhouses,  barns,  mills,  granaries  ;  killing  the 
laborers  in  the  fields  ;  preventing  the  seed  from  being  sown 
in  the  ground  ;  causing  famine  and  starvation  ;  leaving  only 
heaps  of  ruin  and  smoking  ashes,  where  they  had  found  rich 
towns.  To  crown  this  misery,  English  officers  and  men  de- 
serted, and  even  the  favorites  of  Kthelred  the  Unread}r,  be- 
coming traitors,  seized  many  of  the  English  ships,  turned 
pirates  against  their  own  country,  and  aided  by  a  storm 
occasioned  the  loss  of  nearly  the  whole  English  navy. 

There  was  but  one  man  of  note,  at  this  miserable  pass, 
who  was  true  to  his  country  and  the  feeble  King.  He  was  a 
priest,  and  a  brave  one.  For  twenty  days,  the  Archbishop 
of  Canterbury  defended  that  city  against  its  Danish  besiegers  ; 
and  when  a  traitor  in  the  town  threw  the  gates  open  and 
admitted  them,  he  said,  in  chains,  "I  will  not  buy  my  life 
with  money  that  must  be  extorted  from  the  suffering  people. 
Do  with  me  what  you  please  !  "  Again  and  again,  he  steadily 
refused  to  purchase  his  release  with  gold  wrung  from  the 
poor. 

At  last,  the  Danes  being  tired  of  this,  and  being  assem- 
bled at  a  drunken  merry-making,  had  him  brought  into  the 
feasting-hall. 

u  Now,  bishop,"  they  said,  "  we  want  gold  !  " 

He  looked  round  on  the  crowd  of  angry  faces :  from  the 
shaggy  beards  close  to  him,  to  the  shaggy  beards  against  the 
walls,  where  men  were  mounted  on  tables  and  forms  to  see 
him  over  the  heads  of  others :  and  he  knew  that  his  time 
was  come. 

"  I  have  no  gold,"  said  he. 

"  Get  it,  bishop  ! "  they  all  thundered. 

"  That,  I  have  often  told  you,  I  will  not,"  said  he. 

They  gathered  closer  round  him,  threatening,  but  he  stood 
unmoved.  Then,  one  man  struck  him  ;  then,  another  ;  then 
a  cursing  soldier  picked  up  from  a  heap  in  a  corner  of  the  hall, 


36  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

where  fragments  had  been  rudely  thrown  at  dinner,  a  great 
ox-bone,  and  cast  it  at  his  face,  from  which  the  blood  came 
spurting  forth  ;  then,  others  ran  to  the  same  heap,  and  knocked 
him  down  with  other  bones,  and  bruised  and  battered  him  ;  un- 
til one  soldier  whom  he  had  baptized  (willing,  as  I  hope  for 
the  sake  of  that  soldier's  soul,  to  shorten  the  sufferings  of  the 
good  man)  struck  him  dead  with  his  battle-axe. 

If  Ethelred  had  had  the  heart  to  emulate  the  courage  of 
this  noble  archbishop,  he  might  have  done  something  yet. 
But  he  paid  the  Danes  forty-eight  thousand  pounds,  instead, 
and  gained  so  little  by  the  cowardly  act,  that  Sweyn  soon 
afterwards  came  over  to  subdue  all  England.  So  broken  was 
the  attachment  of  the  English  people,  by  this  time,  to  their 
incapable  King  and  their  forlorn  country  which  could  not 
protect  them,  that  the}'  welcomed  Sweyn  on  all  sides,  as  a 
deliverer.  London  faithfully  stood  out,  as  long  as  the  King 
was  within  its  walls ;  but,  when  he  sneaked  away,  it  also 
welcomed  the  Dane.  Then,  all  was  over ;  and  the  King  took 
refuge  abroad  with  the  Duke  of  Normandy,  who  had  already 
given  shelter  to  the  King's  wife,  once  the  Flower  of  that 
country,  and  to  her  children. 

Still,  the  English  people,  in  spite  of  their  sad  sufferings, 
could  not  quite  forget  the  great  King  Alfred  and  the  Saxon 
race.  When  Sweyn  died  suddenly,  in  little  more  than  a 
month  after  he  had  been  proclaimed  King  of  England,  they 
generously  sent  to  Ethelred,  to  say  that  they  would  have  him 
for  their  King  again,  "if  he  would  only  govern  them  better 
than  he  had  governed  them  before."  The  Unread}-,  instead 
of  coming  himself,  sent  Edward,  one  of  his  sons,  to  make 
promises  for  him.  At  last,  he  followed,  and  the  English 
declared  him  King.  The  Danes  declared  CANUTE,  the  son  of 
Sweyn,  King.  Thus,  direful  war  began  again,  and  lasted  for 
three  years,  when  the  Unread}-  died.  And  I  know  of  noth- 
ing better  that  he  did,  in  all  his  reign  of  eight  and  thirty 
years. 

Was  Canute  to  be  King  now?    Not  over  the  Saxons,  they 


ATHELSTAN  AND   THE   SIX  BOY-KINGS.  37 

said ;  they  must  have  EDMUND,  one  of  the  sons  of  the  Un- 
ready, who  was  surnamed  IRONSIDE,  because  of  his  strength 
and  stature.  Edmund  and  Canute  thereupon  fell  to,  and 
fought  five  battles  —  O  unhapp3r  England,  what  a  fighting 
ground  it  was  !  —  and  then  Ironside,  who  was  a  big  man, 
proposed  to  Canute,  who  was  a  little  man,  that  the}'  two 
should  fight  it  out  in  single  combat.  If  Canute  had  been  the 
big  man,  he  would  probably  have  said  yes,  but,  being  the 
little  man,  he  decidedly  said  no.  However,  he  declared  that 
he  was  willing  to  divide  the  kingdom  —  to  take  all  that  lay 
north  of  Watling  Street,  as  the  old  Roman  militaiy  road  from 
Dover  to  Chester  was  called,  and  to  give  Ironside  all  that  lay 
south  of  it.  Most  men  being  weary  of  so  much  bloodshed, 
this  was  done.  But  Canute  soon  became  sole  King  of  Eng- 
land ;  for  Ironside  died  suddenly  within  two  months.  Some 
think  that  he  was  killed,  and  killed  by  Canute's  orders.  No 
one  knows. 


38  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER    V. 

ENGLAND  UNDER  CANUTE  THE  DANE. 

CANUTE  reigned  eighteen  }-ears.  He  was  a  merciless  King 
at  first.  After  he  had  clasped  the  hands  of  the  Saxon 
Chiefs,  in  token  of  the  sincerity  with  which  he  swore  to  be 
just  and  good  to  them  in  return  for  their  acknowledging 
him,  he  denounced  and  slew  many  of  them,  as  well  as  many 
relations  of  the  late  King.  "  He  who  brings  me  the  head  of 
one  of  my  enemies,"  he  used  to  say,  "  shall  be  dearer  to  me 
than  a  brother."  And  he  was  so  severe  in  hunting  down  his 
enemies,  that  he  must  have  got  together  a  pretty  large  family 
of  these  dear  brothers.  He  was  strongly  inclined  to  kill  ED- 
MUND and  EDWARD,  two  children,  sons  of  poor  Ironside  ;  but, 
being  afraid  to  do  so  in  England,  he  sent  them  over  to  the 
King  of  Sweden,  with  a  request  that  the  King  would  be  so 
good  as  "dispose  of  them."  If  the  King  of  Sweden  had 
been  like  many,  many  other  men  of  that  day,  he  would  have 
had  their  innocent  throats  cut ;  but  he  was  a  kind  man,  and 
brought  them  up  tenderly. 

Normandy  ran  much  in  Canute's  mind.  In  Normandy 
were  the  two  children  of  the  late  King  —  EDWARD  and  AL- 
FRED by  name ;  and  their  uncle  the  Duke  might  one  day 
claim  the  crown  for  them.  But  the  Duke  showed  so  lit- 
tle inclination  to  do  so  now,  that  he  proposed  to  Canute 
to  marry  his  sister,  the  widow  of  The  Unready ;  who  be- 
ing but  a  showy  flower,  and  caring  for  nothing  so  much  as 
becoming  a  queen  again,  left  her  children  and  was  wedded 
to  him. 

Successful  and  triumphant,  assisted  by  the  valor  of  the 


CANUTE  THE  DANE.  39 

English  in  his  foreign  wars,  and  with  little  strife  to  trouble  him 
at  home,  Canute  had  a  prosperous  reign,  and  made  many 
improvements.  He  was  a  poet  and  a  musician.  He  grew 
sorry  as  he  grew  older,  for  the  blood  he  had  shed  at  first ; 
and  went  to  Rome  in  a  Pilgrim's  dress,  by  way  of  washing 
it  out.  He  gave  a  great  deal  of  money  to  foreigners  on  his 
journey ;  but  he  took  it  from  the  English  before  he  started. 
On  the  whole,  however,  he  certainly  became  a  far  better  man 
when  he  had  no  opposition  to  contend  with,  and  was  as  great 
a  King  as  England  had  known  for  some  time. 

The  old  writers  of  history  relate  how  that  Canute  was  one 
day  disgusted  with  his  courtiers  for  their  flattery,  and  how 
he  caused  his  chair  to  be  set  on  the  sea-shore,  and  feigned  to 
command  the  tide  as  it  came  up  not  to  wet  the  edge  of  his 
robe,  for  the  land  was  his  ;  how  the  tide  came  up,  of  course, 
without  regarding  him  ;  and  how  he  then  turned  to  his  flatterers, 
and  rebuked  them,  saj'ing,  what  was  the  might  of  any  earthly 
king,  to  the  might  of  the  Creator,  who  could  say  unto  the 
sea,  "Thus  far  shalt  thou  go,  and  no  farther!"  We  may 
learn  from  this,  I  think,  that  a  little  sense  will  go  a  long  way 
in  a  king  ;  and  that  courtiers  are  not  easily  cured  of  flattery, 
nor  kings  of  a  liking  for  it.  If  the  courtiers  of  Canute  had 
not  known,  long  before,  that  the  King  was  fond  of  flattery, 
they  would  have  known  better  than  to  offer  it  in  such  large 
doses.  And  if  they  had  not  known  that  he  was  vain  of  this 
speech  (anything  but  a  wonderful  speech,  it  seems  to  me,  if 
a  good  child  had  made  it) ,  they  would  not  have  been  at  such 
great  pains  to  repeat  it.  I  fancy  I  see  them  all  on  the  sea- 
shore together ;  the  King's  chair  sinking  in  the  sand ;  the 
King  in  a  mighty  good  humor  with  his  own  wisdom  ;  and  the 
courtiers  pretending  to  be  quite  stunned  by  it ! 

It  is  not  the  sea  alone  that  is  bidden  to  go  "  thus  far,  and 
no  farther."  The  great  command  goes  forth  to  all  the  kings 
upon  the  earth,  and  went  to  Canute  in  the  }*ear  one  thousand 
and  thirty-five,  and  stretched  him  dead  upon  his  bed.  Beside 
it,  stood  his  Norman  wife.  Perhaps,  as  the  King  looked 


40  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

his  last  upon  her,  he,  who  had  so  often  thought  distrust- 
fully of  Normaucty,  long  ago,  thought  once  more  of  the 
two  exiled  Princes  in  their  uncle's  court ;  and  of  the  little 
favor  they  could  feel  for  either  Danes  or  Saxons,  and  of 
a  rising  cloud  in  Normandy  that  slowly  moved  towards 
England. 


HAROLD,   HARDICANUTE,  AND  EDWARD.  41 


CHAPTER    VI. 

ENGLAND   UNDER   HAROLD   HAREFOOT,    HARDICANUTE,    AND 
EDWARD   THE    CONFESSOR. 

CANUTE  left  three  sons,  by  name  SWEYN,  HAROLD,  and 
HARDICANUTE  ;  but  his  Queen,  Emma,  once  the  Flower  of 
Normandy,  was  the  mother  of  only  Hardicanute.  Canute 
had  wished  his  dominions  to  be  divided  between  the  three, 
and  had  wished  Harold  to  have  England ;  but  the  Saxon 
people  in  the  South  of  England,  headed  by  a  nobleman  with 
great  possessions,  called  the  powerful  EARL  GODWIN  (who  is 
said  to  have  been  originally  a  poor  cow-boy) ,  opposed  this, 
and  desired  to  have,  instead,  either  Hardicanute,  or  one  of  the 
two  exiled  Princes  who  were  over  in  Normandy.  It  seemed 
so  certain  that  there  would  be  more  bloodshed  to  settle  this 
dispute,  that  many  people  left  their  homes,  and  took  refuge 
in  the  woods  and  swamps.  Happily,  however,  it  was  agreed 
to  refer  the  whole  question  to  a  great  meeting  at  Oxford, 
which  decided  that  Harold  should  have  all  the  country  north 
of  the  Thames,  with  London  for  his  capital  city,  and  that 
Hardicanute  should  have  all  the  south.  The  quarrel  was  so 
arranged ;  and,  as  Hardicanute  was  in  Denmark  troubling 
himself  very  little  about  anything  but  eating  and  getting 
drunk,  his  mother  and  Earl  Godwin  governed  the  south 
for  him. 

They  had  hardly  begun  to  do  so,  and  the  trembling  people 
who  had  hidden  themselves  were  scarcely  at  home  again, 
when  Edward,  the  elder  of  the  two  exiled  Princes,  came  over 
from  Normandy  with  a  few  followers,  to  claim  the  English 
Crown.  His  mother  Emma,  however,  who  only  cared  for 


42  A   CHILD'S  HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

her  last  son  Hardicanutc,  instead  of  assisting  him,  as  he  ex- 
pected, opposed  him  so  strongly  with  all  her  influence  that  he 
was  very  soon  glad  to  get  safely  back.  His  brother  Alfred 
was  not  so  fortunate.  Believing  in  an  affectionate  letter, 
written  some  time  afterwards  to  him  and  his  brother,  in  his 
mother's  name  (but  whether  really  with  or  without  his 
mother's  knowledge  is  now  uncertain),  he  allowed  himself  to 
be  tempted  over  to  England,  with  a  good  force  of  soldiers, 
and  landing  on  the  Kentish  coast,  and  being  met  and  wel- 
comed by  Earl  Godwin,  proceeded  into  Surrey,  as  far  as  the 
town  of  Guildford.  Here,  he  and  his  men  halted  in  the 
evening  to  rest,  having  still  the  Earl  in  their  compan}* ;  who 
had  ordered  lodgings  and  good  cheer  for  them.  But,  in  the 
dead  of  the  night,  when  the}^  were  off  their  guard,  being 
divided  into  small  parties  sleeping  soundly  after  a  long  march 
and  a  plentiful  supper  in  different  houses,  they  were  set  upon 
by  the  King's  troops,  and  taken  prisoners.  Next  morning 
they  were  drawn  out  in  a  line,  to  the  number  of  six  hundred 
men,  and  were  barbarously  tortured  and  killed,  with  the 
exception  of  every  tenth  man,  who  was  sold  into  slavery. 
As  to  the  wretched  Prince  Alfred,  he  was  stripped  naked, 
tied  to  a  horse  and  sent  awa}r  into  the  Isle  of  Ely,  where  his 
eyes  were  torn  out  of  his  head,  and  where  in  a  few  days  he 
miserably  died.  I  am  not  sure  that  the  Earl  had  wilfully 
entrapped  him,  but  I  suspect  it  strongly. 

Harold  was  now  King  all  over  England,  though  it  is  doubt- 
ful whether  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  (the  greater  part 
of  the  priests  were  Saxons,  and  not  friendly  to  the  Danes) 
ever  consented  to  crown  him.  Crowned  or  uncrowned,  with 
the  Archbishop's  leave  or  without  it,  he  was  King  for  four 
years  :  after  which  short  reign  he  died,  and  was  buried  ;  hav- 
ing never  done  much  in  life  but  go  a  hunting.  He  was  such 
a  fast  runner  at  this,  his  favorite  sport,  that  the  people  called 
him  Harold  Harefoot. 

Hardicanute  was  then  at  Bruges,  in  Flanders,  plotting  with 
his  mother  (who  had  gone  over  there  after  the  cruel  murder 


HAKOLD,  HARDICANUTE,  AND   EDWARD.  43 

of  Prince  Alfred),  for  the  invasion  of  England.  The  Danes 
and  Saxons,  finding  themselves  without  a  King,  and  dreading 
new  disputes,  made  common  cause,  and  joined  in  inviting 
him  to  occupy  the  Throne.  He  consented,  and  soon  troubled 
them  enough ;  for  he  brought  over  numbers  of  Danes,  and 
taxed  the  people  so  insupportably  to  enrich  those  greedy 
favorites  that  there  were  many  insurrections,  especially  one 
at  Worcester,  where  the  citizens  rose  and  killed  his  tax- 
collectors  ;  in  revenge  for  which  he  burned  their  city.  He 
was  a  brutal  King,  whose  first  public  act  was  to  order  the 
dead  body  of  poor  Harold  Harefoot  to  be  dug  up,  beheaded, 
and  thrown  into  the  river.  His  end  was  worthy  of  such  a 
beginning.  He  fell  down  drunk,  with  a  goblet  of  wine  in  his 
hand,  at  a  wedding-feast  at  Lambeth,  given  in  honor  of  the 
marriage  of  his  standard-bearer,  a  Dane,  named  TOWED  THE 
PROUD,  and  he  never  spoke  again. 

EDWARD,  afterwards  called  by  the  monks  THE  CONFESSOR, 
succeeded  ;  and  his  first  act  was  to  oblige  his  mother  Emma, 
who  had  favored  him  so  little,  to  retire  into  the  country ; 
where  she  died  some  ten  years  afterwards.  He  was  the  ex- 
iled prince  whose  brother  Alfred  had  been  so  foully  killed. 
He  had  been  invited  over  from  Normandy  by  Hardicanute, 
in  the  course  of  his  short  reign  of  two  years,  and  had  been 
handsomely  treated  at  court.  His  cause  was  now  favored  by 
the  powerful  Earl  Godwin,  and  he  was  soon  made  King. 
This  Earl  had  been  suspected  by  the  people,  ever  since  Prince 
Alfred's  cruel  death ;  he  had  even  been  tried  in  the  last  reign 
for  the  Prince's  murder,  but  had  been  pronounced  not  guilty  ; 
chiefly,  as  it  was  supposed,  because  of  a  present  he  had  made 
to  the  swinish  King,  of  a  gilded  ship  with  a  figure-head  of 
solid  gold,  and  a  crew  of  eighty  splendidly-armed  men.  It 
was  his  interest  to  help  the  new  King  with  his  power,  if  the 
new  King  would  help  him  against  the  popular  distrust  and 
hatred.  So  they  made  a  bargain.  Edward  the  Confessor 
got  the  Throne.  The  Earl  got  more  power  and  more  land, 
and  his  daughter  Editha  was  made  queen ;  for  it  was  a 


44  A  CHILD'S  HISTOKY  OF  ENGLAND. 

part  of  their  compact  that  the  King  should  take  her  for  his 
wife. 

But,  although  she  was  a  gentle  lady,  in  all  things  worthy 
to  be  beloved  —  good,  beautiful,  sensible,  and  kind  —  the 
King  from  the  first  neglected  her.  Her  father  and  her  six 
proud  brothers,  resenting  this  cold  treatment,  harassed  the 
King  greatly  by  exerting  all  their  power  to  make  him  un- 
popular. Having  lived  so  long  in  Normandy,  he  preferred 
the  Normans  to  the  English.  He  made  a  Norman  Arch- 
bishop, and  Norman  Bishops  ;  his  great  officers  and  favorites 
were  all  Normans ;  he  introduced  the  Norman  fashions  and 
the  Norman  language ;  in  imitation  of  the  state  custom  of 
Normandy,  he  attached  a  great  seal  to  his  state  documents, 
instead  of  merely  marking  them,  as  the  Saxon  Kings  had 
done,  with  the  sign  of  the  cross  — just  as  poor  people  who 
have  never  been  taught  to  write,  now  make  the  same  mark 
for  their  names.  All  this,  the  powerful  Earl  Godwin  and  his 
six  proud  sons  represented  to  the  people  as  disfavor  shown 
towards  the  English  ;  and  thus  they  daily  increased  their  own 
power,  and  daily  diminished  the  power  of  the  King. 

The}'  were  greatly  helped  by  an  event  that  occurred  when 
he  had  reigned  eight  years.  Eustace,  Earl  of  Boulogne,  who 
had  married  the  King's  sister,  came  to  England  on  a  visit. 
After  staj'ing  at  the  court  some  time,  he  set  forth,  with  his 
numerous  train  of  attendants,  to  return  home.  They  were  to 
embark  at  Dover.  Entering  that  peaceful  town  in  armor, 
they  took  possession  of  the  best  houses,  and  noisily  demanded 
to  be  lodged  and  entertained  without  payment.  One  of  the 
bold  men  of  Dover,  who  would  not  endure  to  have  these 
domineering  strangers  jingling  their  heav}'  swords  and  iron 
corselets  up  and  down  his  house,  eating  his  meat  and  drink- 
ing his  strong  liquor,  stood  in  his  doorway  and  refused  ad- 
mission to  the  first  armed  man  who  came  there.  The  armed 
man  drew,  and  wounded  him.  The  man  of  Dover  struck  the 
armed  man  dead.  Intelligence  of  what  he  had  done,  spread- 
ing through  the  streets  to  where  the  Count  Eustace  and  his 


HAROLD,  HARDICANUTE,  AND   EDWARD.  45 

men  were  standing  by  their  horses,  bridle  in  hand,  they 
passionately  mounted,  galloped  to  the  house,  surrounded  it, 
forced  their  way  in  (the  doors  and  windows  being  closed 
when  they  came  up) ,  and  killed  the  man  of  Dover  at  his  own 
fireside.  They  then  clattered  through  the  streets,  cutting 
down  and  riding  over  men,  women,  and  children.  This  did 
not  last  long,  you  may  believe.  The  men  of  Dover  set  upon 
them  with  great  fury,  killed  nineteen  of  the  foreigners, 
wounded  many  more,  and,  blockading  the  road  to  the  port  so 
that  they  should  not  embark,  beat  them  out  of  the  town  by 
the  way  they  had  come.  Hereupon  Count  Eustace  rides  as 
hard  as  man  can  ride  to  Gloucester,  where  Edward  is,  sur- 
rounded by  Norman  monks  and  Norman  lords.  "  Justice  !  " 
cries  the  Count,  "  upon  the  men  of  Dover,  who  have  set  upon 
and  slain  my  people  !  "  The  King  sends  immediately  for  the 
powerful  Earl  Godwin,  who  happens  to  be  near ;  reminds  him 
that  Dover  is  under  his  government ;  and  orders  him  to  re- 
pair to  Dover  and  do  military  execution  on  the  inhabitants. 
"  It  does  not  become  you,"  says  the  proud  Earl  in  reply,  "  to 
condemn  without  a  hearing  those  whom  you  have  sworn  to 
protect.  I  will  not  do  it." 

The  King,  therefore,  summoned  the  Earl,  on  pain  of  ban- 
ishment and  loss  of  his  titles  and  property,  to  appear  before 
the  court  to  answer  this  disobedience.  The  Earl  refused  to 
appear.  He,  his  eldest  son  Harold,  and  his  second  son 
Sweyn,  hastily  raised  as  many  fighting  men  as  their  utmost 
power  could  collect,  and  demanded  to  have  Count  Eustace 
and  his  followers  surrendered  to  the  justice  of  the  country. 
The  King,  in  his  turn,  refused  to  give  them  up,  and  raised  a 
strong  force.  After  some  treaty  and  delaj',  the  troops  of  the 
great  Earl  and  his  sons  began  to  fall  off.  The  Earl, -with  a 
part  of  his  family  and  abundance  of  treasure,  sailed  to  Flan- 
ders ;  Harold  escaped  to  Ireland  ;  and  the  power  of  the  great 
family  was  for  that  time  gone  in  England.  But,  the  people 
did  not  forget  them. 

Then,  Edward  the  Confessor,  with  the  true  meanness  of  a 


46  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

mean  spirit,  visited  his  dislike  of  the  once  powerful  father  and 
sons  upon  the  helpless  daughter  and  sister,  his  unoffending 
wife,  whom  all  who  saw  her  (her  husband  and  his  monks  ex- 
ccpted)  loved.  He  seized  rapaciously  upon  her  fortune  and 
her  jewels,  and  allowing  her  only  one  attendant,  confined  her 
in  a  gloomy  convent,  of  which  a  sister  of  his  —  no  doubt  an 
unpleasant  lad}'  after  his  own  heart  —  was  abbess  or  jailer. 

Having  got  Earl  Godwin  and  his  six  sons  well  out  of  his 
way,  the  King  favored  the  Normans  more  than  ever.  He 
invited  over  WILLIAM,  DUKE  OF  NORMANDY,  the  son  of  that 
Duke  who  had  received  him  and  his  murdered  brother  long 
ago,  and  of  a  peasant  girl,  a  tanner's  daughter,  with  whom 
that  Duke  had  fallen  in  love  for  her  beauty,  as  he  saw  her 
washing  clothes  in  a  brook.  William,  who  was  a  great  war- 
rior, with  a  passion  for  fine  horses,  dogs,  and  arms,  accepted 
the  invitation ;  and  the  Normans  in  England,  finding  them- 
selves more  numerous  than  ever  when  he  arrived  with  his 
retinue,  and  held  in  still  greater  honor  at  court  than  before, 
became  more  and  more  haughty  towards  the  people,  and  were 
more  and  more  disliked  by  them. 

The  old  Earl  Godwin,  though  he  was  abroad,  knew  well 
how  the  people  felt ;  for,  with  part  of  the  treasure  he  had 
carried  away  with  him,  he  kept  spies  and  agents  in  his  pay 
all  over  England.  Accordingly,  he  thought  the  time  was 
come  for  fitting  out  a  great  expedition  against  the  Norman- 
loving  King.  With  it,  he  sailed  to  the  Isle  of  Wight,  where 
he  was  joined  by  his  son  Harold,  the  most  gallant  and  brave 
of  all  his  family.  And  so  the  father  and  son  came  sailing  up 
the  Thames  to  Southwark ;  great  numbers  of  the  people 
declaring  for  them,  and  shouting  for  the  English  Earl  and 
the  English  Harold,  against  the  Norman  favorites  ! 

The  King  was  at  first  as  blind  and  stubborn  as  kings  usually 
have  been  whensoever  they  have  been  in  the  hands  of  monks. 
But  the  people  rallied  so  thickly  round  the  old  Earl  and  his 
son,  and  the  old  Earl  was  so  steady  in  demanding  without 
bloodshed  the  restoration  of  himself  and  his  family  to  their 


HAROLD,  HARDICANUTE,  AND  EDWARD.        47 

rights,  that  at  last  the  court  took  the  alarm.  The  Norman 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  and  the  Norman  Bishop  of  Lon- 
don, surrounded  by  their  retainers,  fought  their  way  out  of 
London,  and  escaped  from  Essex  to  France  in  a  fishing-boat. 
The  other  Norman  favorites  dispersed  in  all  directions.  The 
old  Earl  and  his  sons  (except  Sweyn,  who  had  committed 
crimes  against  the  law)  were  restored  to  their  possessions  and 
dignities.  Editha,  the  virtuous  and  lovely  Queen  of  the  in- 
sensible King,  was  triumphantly  released  from  her  prison, 
the  convent,  and  once  more  sat  in  her  chair  of  state,  arrayed 
in  the  jewels  of  which,  when  she  had  no  champion  to  support 
her  rights,  her  cold-blooded  husband  had  deprived  her. 

The  old  Earl  Godwin  did  not  long  enjoy  his  restored  fortune. 
He  fell  down  in  a  fit  at  the  King's  table,  and  died  upon  the 
third  day  afterwards.  Harold  succeeded  to  his  power,  and  to 
a  far  higher  place  in  the  attachment  of  the  people  than  his 
father  had  ever  held.  By  his  valor  he  subdued  the  King's 
enemies  in  many  bloody  fights.  He  was  vigorous  against 
rebels  in  Scotland  —  This  was  the  time  when  Macbeth  slew 
Duncan,  upon  which  event  our  English  Shakespeare,  hundreds 
of  years  afterwards,  wrote  his  great  tragedy :  and  he  killed 
the  restless  Welsh  King  GRIFFITH,  and  brought  his  head  to 
England. 

What  Harold  was  doing  at  sea,  when  he  was  driven  on  the 
French  coast  by  a  tempest,  is  not  at  all  certain  ;  nor  does  it 
at  all  matter.  That  his  ship  was  forced  by  a  storm  on  that 
shore,  and  that  he  was  taken  prisoner,  there  is  no  doubt.  In 
those  barbarous  days,  all  shipwrecked  strangers  were  taken 
prisoners,  and  obliged  to  pay  ransom.  So,  a  certain  Count 
Guy,  who  was  the  Lord  of  Ponthieu  where  Harold's  disaster 
happened,  seized  him,  instead  of  relieving  him  like  a  hospit- 
able and  Christian  lord  as  he  ought  to  have  done,  and  expected 
to  make  a  very  good  thing  of  it. 

But  Harold  sent  off  immediately  to  Duke  William  of  Nor- 
mamty,  complaining  of  this  treatment ;  and  the  Duke  no 
sooner  heard  of  it  than  he  ordered  Harold  to  be  escorted  to 


48  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

the  ancient  town  of  Rouen,  where  he  then  was,  and  where  he 
received  him  as  an  honored  guest.  Now,  some  writers  tell 
us  that  Edward  the  Confessor,  who  was  b}-  this  time  old  and_ 
had  no  children,  had  made  a  will,  appointing  Duke  William 
of  Normandy  his  successor,  and  had  informed  the  Duke  of 
his  having  done  so.  There  is  no  doubt  that  he  was  anxious 
about  his  successor,  because  he  had  even  invited  over,  from 
abroad,  EDWARD  THE  OUTLAW,  a  son  of  Ironside,  who  had 
come  to  England  with  his  wife  and  three  children,  but  whom 
the  King  had  strange!}-  refused  to  see  when  he  did  come,  and 
who  had  died  in  London  suddenly  (princes  were  terribl}'  liable 
to  sudden  death  in  those  days) ,  and  had  been  buried  in  St. 
Paul's  Cathedral.  The  King  might  possiblj'  have  made  such 
a  will ;  or,  having  alwaj-s  been  fond  of  the  Normans,  he 
might  have  encouraged  Norman  William  to  aspire  to  the 
English  crown,  by  something  that  he  said  to  him  when  he 
was  sta}-ing  at  the  English  court.  But,  certainly  William 
did  now  aspire  to  it ;  and  knowing  that  Harold  would  be  a 
powerful  rival,  he  called  together  a  great  assembly  of  his 
nobles,  offered  Harold  his  daughter  ADELE  in  marriage,  in- 
formed him  that  he  meant  on  King  Edward's  death  to  claim 
the  English  crown  as  his  own  inheritance,  and  required  Harold 
then  and  there  to  swear  to  aid  him.  Harold,  being  in  the 
Duke's  power,  took  this  oath  upon  the  Missal,  or  Prayer-book. 
It  is  a  good  example  of  the  superstitions  of  the  monks,  that 
this  Missal,  instead  of  being  placed  upon  a  table,  was  placed 
upon  a  tub  ;  which,  when  Harold  had  sworn,  was  uncovered, 
and  shown  to  be  full  of  dead  men's  bones — bones,  as  the 
monks  pretended,  of  saints.  This  was  supposed  to  make 
Harold's  oath  a  great  deal  more  impressive  and  binding.  As 
if  the  great  name  of  the  Creator  of  Heaven  and  earth  could 
be  made  more  solemn  by  a  knuckle-bone,  or  a  double-tooth, 
or  a  finger-nail,  of  Dunstan  ! 

Within  a  week  or  two  after  Harold's  return  to  England,  the 
dreary  old  Confessor  was  found  to  be  dying.  After  wandering 
in  his  mind  like  a  very  weak  old  man,  he  died.  As  he  had 


HAROLD,  HARDICANUTE,  AND   EDWARD.  49 

put  himself  entirely  in  the  hands  of  the  monks  when  he  was 
alive,  they  praised  him  lustily  when  he  was  dead.  They  had 
gone  so  far,  already,  as  to  persuade  him  that  he  could  work 
miracles  ;  and  had  brought  people  afflicted  with  a  bad  disorder 
of  the  skin,  to  him,  to  be  touched  and  cured.  This  was 
called  "touching  for  the  King's  Evil,"  which  afterwards  be- 
came a  royal  custom.  You  know,  however,  Who  really 
touched  the  sick,  and  healed  them ;  and  you  know  His  sacred 
name  is  not  among  the  dusty  line  of  human  kings. 


A  CHILD'S  HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

ENGLAND  UNDER  HAROLD  THE  SECOND,  AND  CONQUERED  BY 
THE  NORMANS. 

HAROLD  was  crowned  King  of  England  on  the  very  day 
of  the  maudlin  Confessor's  funeral.  He  had  good  need 
to  be  quick  about  it.  When  the  news  reached  Norman 
William,  hunting  in  his  park  at  Rouen,  he  dropped  his  bow, 
returned  to  his  palace,  called  his  nobles  to  council,  and  pres- 
ently sent  ambassadors  to  Harold,  calling  on  him  to  keep  his 
oath  and  resign  the  Crown.  Harold  would  do  no  such  thing. 
The  barons  of  France  leagued  together  round  Duke  William 
for  the  invasion  of  England.  Duke  William  promised  freely 
to  distribute  English  wealth  and  English  lands  among  them. 
The  Pope  sent  to  Normandy  a  consecrated  banner,  and  a  ring 
containing  a  hair  which  he  warranted  to  have  grown  on  the 
head  of  Saint  Peter.  He  blessed  the  enterprise  ;  and  cursed 
Harold  ;  and  requested  that  the  Normans  would  pay  ' '  Peter's 
Pence "  —  or  a  tax  to  himself  of  a  penny  a  year  on  every 
house  —  a  little  more  regularly  in  future,  if  they  could  make 
it  convenient. 

King  Harold  had  a  rebel  brother  in  Flanders,  who  was  a 
vassal  of  HAROLD  HARDRADA,  King  of  Norwa}'.  This  brother, 
and  this  Norwegian  King,  joining  their  forces  against  Eng- 
land, with  Duke  William's  help,  won  a  fight  in  which  the 
English  were  commanded  by  two  nobles  ;  and  then  besieged 
York.  Harold,  who  was  waiting  for  the  Normans  on  the 
coast  at  Hastings,  with  his  army,  marched  to  Stamford  Bridge 
upon  the  river  Derwent  to  give  them  instant  battle. 

He  found  them  drawn  up  in  a  hollow  circle,  marked  out  by 


HAROLD  THE   SECOND.  51 

their  shining  spears.  Riding  round  this  circle  at  a  distance, 
to  survey  it,  he  saw  a  brave  figure  on  horseback,  in  a  blue 
mantle  and  a  bright  helmet,  whose  horse  suddenly  stumbled 
and  threw  him. 

"•  Who  is  .that  man  who  has  fallen?  "  Harold  asked  of  one 
of  his  captains. 

"  The  King  of  Norway,"  he  replied. 

"  He  is  a  tall  and  stately  king,"  said  Harold,  "  but  his  end 
is  near." 

He  added,  in  a  little  while,  "  Go  yonder  to  my  brother,  and 
tell  him,  if  he  withdraw  his  troops,  he  shall  be  Earl  of  North- 
umberland, and  rich  and  powerful  in  England." 

The  captain  rode  away  and  gave  the  message. 

' '  What  will  he  give  to  my  friend  the  King  of  Norway  ?  " 
asked  the  brother. 

"  Seven  feet  of  earth  for  a  grave,"  replied  the  captain. 

" No  more?"  returned  the  brother,  with  a  smile. 

"The  King  of  Norway  being  a  tall  man,  perhaps  a  little 
more,"  replied  the  captain. 

"  Ride  back  !  "  said  the  brother,  "  and  tell  King  Harold  to 
make  ready  for  the  fight ! " 

He  did  so,  very  soon.  And  such  a  fight  King  Harold  led 
against  that  force,  that  his  brother,  and  the  Norwegian  King, 
and  every  chief  of  note  in  all  their  host,  except  the  Norwe- 
gian King's  son,  Olave,  to  whom  he  gave  honorable  dismissal, 
were  left  dead  upon  the  field.  The  victorious  arm}-  marched 
to  York.  As  King  Harold  sat  there  at  the  feast,  in  the  midst 
of  all  his  company,  a  stir  was  heard  at  the  doors  ;  and  mes- 
sengers all  covered  with  mire  from  riding  far  and  fast  through 
broken  ground  came  hurrying  in,  to  report  that  the  Normans 
had  landed  in  England. 

The  intelligence  was  true.  They  had  been  tossed  about  by 
contrary  winds,  and  some  of  their  ships  had  been  wrecked. 
A  part  of  their  own  shore,  to  which  they  had  been  driven 
back,  was  strewn  with  Norman  bodies.  But  they  had  once 
more  made  sail,  led  by  the  Duke's  own  galley,  a  present  from 


52  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

his  wife,  upon  the  prow  whereof  the  figure  of  a  golden  boy 
stood  pointing  towards  England.  Ity  da}r,  the  banner  of  the 
three  Lions  of  Normandy,  the  diverse  colored  sails,  the  gilded 
vanes,  the  many  decorations  of  this  gorgeous  ship,  had  glit- 
tered in  the  sun  and  sunny  water ;  by  night,  a  light  had 
sparkled  like  a  star  at  her  mast-head.  And  now,  encamped 
near  Hastings,  with  their  leader  lying  in  the  old  Roman  castle 
of  Pevensey,  the  English  retiring  in  all  directions,  the  land 
for  miles  around  scorched  and  smoking,  fired  and  pillaged, 
was  the  whole  Norman  power,  hopeful  and  strong  on  English 
ground. 

Harold  broke  up  the  feast  and  hurried  to  London.  "Within 
a  week,  his  army  was  ready.  He  sent  out  spies  to  ascertain 
the  Norman  strength.  William  took  them,  caused  them  to 
be  led  through  his  whole  camp,  and  then  dismissed.  "The 
Normans,"  said  these  spies  to  Harold,  "  are  not  bearded  on 
the  upper  lip  as  we  English  are,  but  are  shorn.  They  are 
priests."  "My  men,"  replied  Harold,  with  a  laugh,  "  will 
find  those  priests  good  soldiers  !  " 

"  The  Saxons,"  reported  Duke  William's  outposts  of  Nor- 
man soldiers,  who  were  instructed  to  retire  as  King  Harold's 
army  advanced,  "rush  on  us  through  their  pillaged  country 
with  the  fury  of  madmen." 

"  Let  them  come,  and  come  soon ! "  said  Duke  William. 

Some  proposals  for  a  reconciliation  were  made,  but  were 
soon  abandoned.  In  the  middle  of  the  month  of  October,  in 
the  year  one  thousand  and  sixty-six,  the  Normans  and  the 
English  came  front  to  front.  All  night  the  armies  \a,y  en- 
camped before  each  other,  in  a  part  of  the  country  then  called 
Senlac,  now  called  (in  remembrance  of  them)  Battle.  With 
the  first  dawn  of  day,  they  arose.  There,  in  the  faint  light, 
were  the  English  on  a  hill ;  a  wood  behind  them ;  in  their 
midst,  the  Rxyval  banner,  representing  a  fighting  warrior, 
woven  in  gold  thread,  adorned  with  precious  stones  ;  beneath 
the  banner  as  it  rustled  in  the  wind,  stood  King  Harold  on 
foot,  with  two  of  his  remaining  brothers  by  his  side  ;  around 


HAROLD   THE   SECOND.  53 

them,  still  and  silent  as  the  dead,  clustered  the  whole  English 
army  —  every  soldier  covered  by  his  shield,  and  bearing  in 
his  hand  his  dreaded  English  battle-axe. 

On  an  opposite  hill,  in  three  lines,  archers,  foot- soldiers, 
horsemen,  was  the  Norman  force.  Of  a  sudden,  a  great 
battle-cry,  "God  help  us!"  burst  from  the  Norman  lines. 
The  English  answered  with  their  own  battle-cry,  "God's 
Rood  !  Holy  Rood  !  "  The  Normans  then  came  sweeping 
down  the  hill  to  attack  the  English. 

There  was  one  tall  Norman  Knight  who  rode  before  the 
Norman  army  on  a  prancing  horse,  throwing  up  his  heavy 
sword  and  catching  it,  and  singing  of  the  braveiy  of  his 
countrymen.  An  English  Knight,  who  rode  out  from  the 
English  force  to  meet  him,  fell  by  this  Knight's  hand.  An- 
other English  Knight  rode  out,  and  he  fell  too.  But  then  a 
third  rode  out,  and  killed  the  Norman.  This  was  in  the  first 
beginning  of  the  fight.  It  soon  raged  everywhere. 

The  English  keeping  side  by  side  in  a  great  mass,  cared 
no  more  for  the  showers  of  Norman  arrows  than  if  they  had 
been  showers  of  Norman  rain.  When  the  Norman  horsemen 
rode  against  them,  with  their  battle-axes  they  cut  men  and 
horses  down.  The  Normans  gave  way.  The  English  pressed 
forward.  A  cr}r  went  forth  among  the  Norman  troops  that 
Duke  William  was  killed.  Duke  William  took  off  his  helmet, 
in  order  that  his  face  might  be  distinctly  seen,  and  rode 
along  the  line  before  his  men.  This  gave  them  courage. 
As  they  turned  again  to  face  the  English,  some  of  their  Nor- 
man horse  divided  the  pursuing  body  of  the  English  from  the 
rest,  and  thus  all  that  foremost  portion  of  the  English  army 
fell,  fighting  bravely.  The  main  body  still  remaining  firm, 
heedless  of  the  Norman  arrows,  and  with  their  battle-axes 
cutting  down  the  crowds  of  horsemen  when  they  rode  up,  like 
forests  of  3'oung  trees,  Duke  William  pretended  to  retreat. 
The  eager  English  followed.  The  Norman  army  closed 
again,  and  fell  upon  them  with  great  slaughter. 

"  Still,"  said  Duke  William,  "  there  are  thousands  of  the 


54  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

English,  firm  as  rocks  around  their  King.  Shoot  upward, 
Norman  archers,  that  your  arrows  may  fall  down  upon  their 
faces !  " 

The  sun  rose  high,  and  sank,  and  the  battle  still  raged. 
Through  all  the  wild  October  day,  the  clash  and  din  re- 
sounded in  the  air.  In  the  red  sunset,  and  in  the  white 
moonlight,  heaps  upon  heaps  of  dead  men  lay  strewn,  a 
dreadful  spectacle,  all  over  the  ground.  King  Harold, 
wounded  with  an  arrow  in  the  eye,  was  nearly  blind.  His 
brothers  were  already  killed.  Twenty  Norman  Knights, 
whose  battered  armor  had  flashed  fiery  and  golden  in  the 
sunshine  all  day  long,  and  now  looked  silver}'  in  the  moon- 
light, dashed  forward  to  seize  the  Royal  banner  from  the 
English  Knights  and  soldiers,  still  faithfully  collected  round 
their  blinded  King.  The  King  received  a  mortal  wound,  and 
dropped.  The  English  broke  and  fled.  The  Normaas  rallied, 
and  the  day  was  lost. 

O  what  a  sight  beneath  the  moon  and  stars,  when  lights 
were  shining  in  the  tent  of  the  victorious  Duke  William, 
which  was  pitched  near  the  spot  where  Harold  fell  —  and  he 
and  his  Knights  were  carousing,  within  —  and  soldiers  with 
torches,  going  slowly  to  and  fro,  without,  sought  for  the 
corpse  of  Harold  among  piles  of  dead  —  and  the  warrior, 
worked  in  golden  thread  and  precious  stones,  lay  low,  all 
torn  and  soiled  with  blood  —  and  the  three  Norman  Lions 
kept  watch  over  the  field ! 


EDITH   POINTING   OUT   THE   BODY   OF   HAROLD. 


WILLIAM  THE   CONQUEROR.  55 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

ENGLAND    UNDER   WILLIAM   THE    FIRST,    THE   NORMAN 
CONQUEROR. 

UPON  the  ground  where  the  brave  Harold  fell,  William 
the  Norman  afterwards  founded  an  abbey,  which,  under 
the  name  of  Battle  Abbey,  was  a  rich  and  splendid  place 
through  many  a  troubled  year,  though  now  it  is  a  gray 
ruin  overgrown  with  ivy.  But  the  first  work  he  had  to  do, 
was  to  conquer  the  English  thoroughly  ;  and  that,  as  you- 
know  by  this  time,  was  hard  work  for  any  man. 

He  ravaged  several  counties  ;  he  burned  and  plundered 
many  towns ;  he  laid  waste  scores  upon  scores  of  miles  of 
pleasant  country ;  he  destroyed  innumerable  lives.  At  length 
STIGAND,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  with  other  representa- 
tives of  the  clergy  and  the  people,  went  to  his  camp,  and 
submitted  to  him.  EDGAR,  the  insignificant  son  of  Edmund 
Ironside,  was  proclaimed  King  by  others,  but  nothing  came 
of  it.  He  fled  to  Scotland  afterwards,  where  his  sister,  who 
was  young  and  beautiful,  married  the  Scottish  King.  Edgar 
himself  was  not  important  enough  for  anybod}7  to  care  much 
about  him. 

On  Christmas  Day,  William  was  crowned  in  Westminster 
Abbey,  under  the  title  of  WILLIAM  THE  FIRST  ;  but  he  is  best 
known  as  WILLIAM  THE  CONQUEROR.  It  was  a  strange  coro- 
nation. One  of  the  bishops  who  performed  the  ceremony 
asked  the  Normans,  in  French,  if  they  would  have  Duke 
William  for  their  king?  They  answered  Yes.  Another  of 
the  bishops  put  the  same  question  to  the  Saxons,  in  English. 
They  too  answered  Yes,  with  a  loud  shout.  The  noise  being 


56  A   CHILD'S   HISTOKY   OF  ENGLAND. 

heard  by  a  guard  of  Norman  horse-soldiers  outside,  was  mis- 
taken for  resistance  on  the  part  of  the  English.  The  guard 
instantly  set  fire  to  the  neighboring  houses,  and  a  tumult 
ensued ;  in  the  midst  of  which  the  King,  being  left  alone  in 
the  Abbey,  with  a  few  priests  (and  they  all  being  in  a  terrible 
fright  together),  was  hurriedly  crowned.  When  the  crown 
was  placed  upon  his  head,  he  swore  to  govern  the  English 
as  well  as  the  best  of  their  own  monarchs.  I  dare  sa}'  you 
think,  as  I  do,  that  if  we  except  the  Great  Alfred,  he  might 
pretty  easily  have  done  that. 

Numbers  of  the  English  nobles  had  been  killed  in  the  last 
disastrous  battle.  Their  estates,  and  the  estates  of  all  the 
nobles  who  had  fought  against  him  there,  King  William 
seized  upon,  and  gave  to  his  own  Norman  knights  and  nobles. 
Many  great  English  families  of  the  present  time  acquired 
their  English  lands  in  this  way,  and  are  very  proud  of  it. 

But  what  is  got  by  force  must  be  maintained  by  force. 
These  nobles  were  obliged  to  build  castles  all  over  England, 
to  defend  their  new  property ;  and,  do  what  he  would,  the 
King  could  neither  soothe  nor  quell  the  nation  as  he  wished. 
He  gradually  introduced  the  Norman  language  and  the  Nor- 
man customs ;  yet,  for  a  long  time  the  great  body  of  the 
English  remained  sullen  and  revengeful.  On  his  going  over 
to  Normand}',  to  visit  his  subjects  there,  the  oppressions  of 
his  half-brother  ODO,  whom  he  left  in  charge  of  his  English 
kingdom,  drove  the  people  mad.  The  men  of  Kent  even 
invited  over,  to  take  possession  of  Dover,  their  old  enemy 
Count  Eustace  of  Boulogne,  who  had  led  the  fray  when  the 
Dover  man  was  slain  at  his  own  fireside.  The  men  of  Here- 
ford, aided  by  the  Welsh,  and  commanded  b}-  a  chief  named 
EDRIC  THE  WILD,  drove  the  Normans  out  of  their  country. 
Some  of  those  who  had  been  dispossessed  of  their  lands, 
banded  together  in  the  North  of  England  ;  some,  in  Scotland ; 
some,  in  the  thick  woods  and  marshes  ;  and  whensoever  they 
could  fall  upon  the  Normans,  or  upon  the  English  who  had 
submitted  to  the  Normans,  they  fought,  despoiled,  and  mur- 


WILLIAM   THE   CONQUEROR.  57 

dered,  like  the  desperate  outlaws  that  they  were.  Conspira- 
cies were  set  on  foot  for  a  general  massacre  of  the  Normans, 
like  the  old  massacre  of  the  Danes.  In  short,  the  English 
were  in  a  murderous  mood  all  through  the  kingdom. 

King  William,  fearing  he  might  lose  his  conquest,  came 
back,  and  tried  to  pacify  the  London  people  by  soft  words. 
He  then  set  forth  to  repress  the  country  people  by  stern 
deeds.  Among  the  towns  which  he  besieged,  and  where  he 
killed  and  maimed  the  inhabitants  without  any  distinction, 
sparing  none,  young  or  old,  armed  or  unarmed,  were  Oxford, 
Warwick,  Leicester,  Nottingham,  Derby,  Lincoln,  York. 
In  all  these  places,  and  in  many  others,  fire  and  sword  worked 
their  utmost  horrors,  and  made  the  land  dreadful  to  behold. 
The  streams  and  rivers  were  discolored  with  blood ;  the  sky 
was  blackened  with  smoke  ;  the  fields  were  wastes  of  ashes  ; 
the  waysides  were  heaped  up  witli  dead.  Such  are  the  fatal 
results  of  conquest  and  ambition  !  Although  AVilliam  was  a 
harsh  and  angry  man,  I  do  not  suppose  that  he  deliberately 
meant  to  work  this  shocking  ruin,  when  he  invaded  England. 
But  what  he  had  got  by  the  strong  hand,  he  could  only  keep 
by  the  strong  hand,  and  in  so  doing  he  made  England  a  great 
grave. 

Two  sons  of  Harold,  by  name  EDMUND  and  GODWIN,  came 
over  from  Ireland,  with  some  ships,  against  the  Normans, 
but  were  defeated.  This  was  scarcely  done,  when  the  out- 
laws in  the  woods  so  harassed  York,  that  the  Governor  sent 
to  the  King  for  help.  The  King  despatched  a  general  and  a 
large  force  to  occupy  the  town  of  Durham.  The  Bishop  of 
that  place  met  the  general  outside  the  town,  and  warned  him 
not  to  enter,  as  he  would  be  in  danger  there.  The  general 
cared  nothing  for  the  warning,  and  went  in  with  all  his  men. 
That  night,  on  every  hill  within  sight  of  Durham,  signal  fires 
were  seen  to  blaze.  When  the  morning  dawned,  the  English, 
who  had  assembled  in  great  strength,  forced  the  gates,  rushed 
into  the  town,  and  slew  the  Normans  every  one.  The  English 
afterwards  besought  the  Danes  to  come  and  help  them.  The 


58  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF    ENGLAND. 

Danes  came,  with  two  hundred  and  forty  ships.  The  out- 
lawed nobles  joined  them ;  they  captured  York,  and  drove 
the  Normans  out  of  that  city.  Then,  William  bribed  the 
Danes  to  go  away ;  and  took  such  vengeance  on  the  English, 
that  all  the  former  fire  and  sword,  smoke  and  ashes,  death 
and  ruin,  were  nothing  compared  with  it.  In  melancholy 
songs,  and  doleful  stories,  it  was  still  sung  and  told  by  cot- 
tage fires  on  winter  evenings,  a  hundred  years  afterwards, 
how,  in  those  dreadful  days  of  the  Normans,  there  was  not, 
from  the  River  Humbcr  to  the  River  Tyne,  one  inhabited 
village  left,  nor  one  cultivated  field  —  how  there  was  nothing 
but  a  dismal  ruin,  where  the  human  creatures  and  the  beasts 
lay  dead  together. 

The  outlaws  had,  at  this  time,  what  they  called  a  Camp  of 
Refuge,  in  the  midst  of  the  fens  of  Cambridgeshire.  Pro- 
tected by  those  marshy  grounds  which  were  difficult  of  ap- 
proach, they  lay  among  the  reeds  and  rushes,  and  were  hidden 
by  the  mists  that  rose  up  from  the  wateiy  earth.  Now,  there 
also  was,  at  that  time,  over  the  sea  in  Flanders, 'an  English- 
man named  HEREWARD,  whose  father  had  died  in  his  absence, 
and  whose  property  had  been  given  to  a  Norman.  When  he 
heard  of  this  wrong  that  had  been  done  him  (from  such  of  the 
exiled  English  as  chanced  to  wander  into  that  country),  he 
longed  for  revenge  ;  and  joining  the  outlaws  in  their  camp  of 
refuge,  became  their  commander.  He  was  so  good  a  soldier, 
that  the  Normans  supposed  him  to  be  aided  by  enchantment. 
William,  even  after  he  had  made  a  road  three  miles  in  length 
across  the  Cambridgeshire  marshes,  on  purpose  to  attack  this 
supposed  enchanter,  thought  it  necessary  to  engage  an  old 
lady,  who  pretended  to  be  a  sorceress,  to  come  and  do  a  little 
enchantment  in  the  royal  cause.  For  this  purpose  she  was 
pushed  on  before  the  troops  in  a  wooden  tower ;  but  Here- 
ward  very  soon  disposed  of  this  unfortunate  sorceress,  by 
burning  her,  tower  and  all.  The  monks  of  the  convent  of  Ely 
near  at  hand,  however,  who  were  fond  of  good  living,  and 
who  found  it  very  uncomfortable  to  have  the  country  block- 


WILLIAM   THE   CONQUEROR.  59 

acted  and  their  supplies  of  meat  and  drink  cut  off,  showed  the 
King  a  secret  way  of  surprising  the  camp.  So  Hercward 
was  soon  defeated.  Whether  he  afterwards  died  quietly,  or 
whether  he  was  killed  after  killing  sixteen  of  the  men  who 
attacked  him  (as  some  old  rhymes  relate  that  he  did),  I 
cannot  say.  His  defeat  put  an  end  to  the  Camp  of  Refuge  ; 
and,  very  soon  afterwards,  the  King,  victorious  both  in  Scot- 
land and  in  England,  quelled  the  last  rebellious  English  noble. 
He  then  surrounded  himself  with  Norman  lords,  enriched  by 
the  property  of  English  nobles  ;  had  a  great  survey  made  of 
all  the  land  in  England,  which  was  entered  as  the  property  of 
its  new  owners,  on  a  roll  called  Doomsday  Book ;  obliged  the 
people  to  put  out  their  fires  and  candles  at  a  certain  hour 
every  night,  on  the  ringing  of  a  bell  which  was  called  The 
Curfew  ;  introduced  the  Norman  dresses  and  manners  ;  made 
the  Normans  masters  everywhere,  and  the  English,  servants ; 
turned  out  the  English  bishops,  and  put  Normans  in  their 
places  ;  and  showed  himself  to  be  the  Conqueror  indeed. 

But,  even  with  his  own  Normans,  he  had  a  restless  life. 
They  were  always  hungering  and  thirsting  for  the  riches  of 
the  English ;  and  the  more  he  gave,  the  more  the}*  wanted. 
His  priests  were  as  greed}*  as  his  soldiers.  We  know  of 
only  one  Norman  who  plainly  told  his  master,  the  King, 
that  he  had  come  with  him  to  England  to  do  his  duty  as  a 
faithful  servant,  and  that  property  taken  by  force  from  other 
men  had  no  charms  for  him.  His  name  was  GUILBERT. 
We  should  not  forget  his  name,  for  it  is  good  to  remember 
and  to  honor  honest  men. 

Besides  all  these  troubles,  William  the  Conqueror  was  trou- 
bled by  quarrels  among  his  sons.  He  had  three  living.  ROBERT, 
called  CURTHOSE,  because  of  his  short  legs ;  WILLIAM,  called 
RUFUS  or  the  Red,  from  the  color  of  his  hair  ;  and  HENRY,  fond 
of  learning,  and  called,  in  the  Norman  language  BEAUCLERC,  or 
Fine-Scholar.  When  Robert  grew  up,  he  asked  of  his  father 
the  government  of  Normandy,  which  he  had  nominally  pos- 
sessed, as  a  child,  under  his  mother,  MATILDA.  The  King  re- 


60  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

fusing  to  grant  it,  Robert  became  jealous  and  discontented  ; 
and  happening  one  day,  while  in  this  temper,  to  be  ridiculed 
b\"  his  brothers,  who  threw  water  on  him  from  a  balcony  as  he 
was  walking  before  the  door,  he  drew  his  sword,  rushed  up- 
stairs, and  was  only  prevented  by  the  King  himself  from  put- 
ting them  to  death.  That  same  night,  he  hotly  departed  with 
some  followers  from  his  father's  court,  and  endeavored  to 
take  the  Castle  of  Rouen  by  surprise.  Failing  in  this,  he  shut 
himself  up  in  another  Castle  in  Normandy,  which  the  King  be- 
sieged, and  where  Robert  one  day  unhorsed  and  nearby  killed 
him  without  knowing  who  he  was.  His  submission  when  he 
discovered  his  father,  and  the  intercession  of  the  queen  and 
others,  reconciled  them ;  but  not  soundly ;  for  Robert  soon 
steiyed  abroad,  and  went  from  court  to  court  with  his  com- 
plaints. He  was  a  gay,  careless,  thoughtless  fellow,  spending 
all  he  got  on  musicians  and  dancers ;  but  his  mother  loved 
him,  and  often,  against  the  King's  command,  supplied  him  with 
money  through  a  messenger  named  SAMSON.  At  length  the 
incensed  King  swore  he  would  tear  out  Samson's  eyes  ;  and 
Samson,  thinking  that  his  only  hope  of  safety  was  in  becom- 
ing a  monk,  became  one,  went  on  such  errands  no  more,  and 
kept  his  eyes  in  his  head. 

All  this  time,  from  the  turbulent  day  of  his  strange  corona- 
tion, the  Conqueror  had  been  struggling,  you  see,  at  any  cost 
of  cruelty  and  bloodshed,  to  maintain  what  he  had  seized. 
All  his  reign,  he  struggled  still,  with  the  same  object  ever 
before  him.  He  was  a  stern  bold  man,  and  he  succeeded  in 
it. 

He  loved  money,  and  was  particular  in  his  eating,  but  he 
had  only  leisure  to  indulge  one  other  passion,  and  that  was 
his  love  of  hunting.  He  carried  it  to  such  a  height  that  he 
ordered  whole  villages  and  towns  to  be  swept  away  to  make 
forests  for  the  deer.  Not  satisfied  with  sixty-eight  Royal 
Forests,  he  laid  waste  an  immense  district,  to  form  another 
in  Hampshire,  called  the  New  Forest.  The  many  thousands 
of  miserable  peasants  who  saw  their  little  houses  pulled 


WILLIAM   THE   CONQUEROR.  Gl 

down,  and  themselves  and  children  turned  into  the  open  coun- 
try without  a  shelter,  detested  him  for  his  merciless  addition 
to  their  many  sufferings  ;  and  when,  in  the  twenty-first  year 
of  his  reign  (which  proved  to  be  the  last) ,  he  went  over  to 
Rouen,  England  was  as  full  of  hatred  against  him  as  if  every 
leaf  on  every  tree  in  all  his  Royal  Forests  had  been  a  curse 
upon  his  head.  In  the  New  Forest,  his  son  Richard  (for  he 
had  four  sons)  had  been  gored  to  death  by  a  Stag  ;  and  the 
people  said  that  this  so  cruelly-made  Forest  would  yet  be  fatal 
to  others  of  the  Conqueror's  race. 

He  was  engaged  in  a  dispute  with  the  King  of  France 
about  some  territoiy.  While  he  stayed  at  Rouen,  negotiating 
with  that  King,  he  kept  his  bed  and  took  medicines  :  being 
advised  by  his  physicians  to  do  so,  on  account  of  having 
grown  to  an  unwieldy  size.  Word  being  brought  to  him  that 
the  King  of  France  made  light  of  this,  and  joked  about  it,  he 
swore  in  a  great  rage  that  he  should  rue  his  jests.  He  assem- 
bled his  army,  marched  into  the  disputed  territoiy,  burnt  — 
his  old  way!  —  the  vines,  the  crops,  and  fruit,  and  set  the 
town  of  Mantes  on  fire.  But,  in  an  evil  hour ;  for,  as  he  rode 
over  the  hot  ruins,  his  horse,  setting  his  hoofs  upon  some  burn- 
ing embers,  started,  threw  him  forward  against  the  pommel 
of  the  saddle,  and  gave  him  a  mortal  hurt.  For  six  weeks  he 
lay  dying  in  a  monastery  near  Rouen,  and  then  made  his  will, 
giving  England  to  William,  Normandy  to  Robert,  and  five 
thousand  pounds  to  Henry.  And  now  his  violent  deeds 
lay  heavy  on  his  mind.  He  ordered  money  to  be  given  to 
many  English  churches  and  monasteries,  and  —  which  was 
much  better  repentance  —  released  his  prisoners  of  state, 
some  of  whom  had  been  confined  in  his  dungeons  twenty 
years. 

It  was  a  September  morning,  and  the  sun  was  rising,  when 
the  King  was  awakened  from  slumber  by  the  sound  of  a 
church  bell.  "  What  bell  is  that !  "  he  faintly  asked.  They 
told  him  it  was  the  bell  of  the  chapel  of  Saint  Mary.  "I 
commend  my  soul,"  said  he,  "  to  Mary ! "  and  died. 


62  A   CHILD'S   HISTOKY  OF   ENGLAND. 

Think  of  his  name,  The  Conqueror,  and  then  consider  how 
he  lay  in  death  !  The  moment  he  was  dead,  his  physicians, 
priests,  and  nobles,  not  knowing  what  contest  for  the  throne 
might  now  take  place,  or  what  might  happen  in  it,  hastened 
away,  each  man  for  himself  and  his  own  property ;  the  mer- 
cenary servants  of  the  court  began  to  rob  and  plunder ;  the 
body  of  the  King,  in  the  indecent  strife,  was  rolled  from  the 
bed,  and  lay  alone,  for  hours,  upon  the  ground.  O  Conquer- 
or, of  whom  so  many  great  names  are  proud  now,  of  whom  so 
many  great  names  thought  nothing  then,  it  were  better  to  have 
conquered  one  true  heart,  than  England  ! 

By-and-by,  the  priests  came  creeping  in  with  prayers 
and  candles ;  and  a  good  knight,  named  HERLUIN,  under- 
took (which  no  one  else  would  do)  to  convey  the  body  to 
Caen,  in  Normandy,  in  order  that  it  might  be  buried  in  St. 
Stephen's  church  there,  which  the  Conqueror  had  founded. 
But  fire,  of  which  he  had  made  such  bad  use  in  his  life, 
seemed  to  follow  him  of  itself  in  death.  A  great  conflagration 
broke  out  in  the  town  when  the  body  was  placed  in  the 
church ;  and  those  present  running  out  to  extinguish  the 
flames,  it  was  once  again  left  alone. 

It  was  not  even  buried  in  peace.  It  was  about  to  be  let 
down,  in  its  Eo}ral  robes,  into  a  tomb  near  the  high  altar,  in 
presence  of  a  great  concourse  of  people,  when  a  loud  voice  in 
the  crowd  cried  out,  ' '  This  ground  is  mine  !  Upon  it,  stood 
my  father's  house.  This  King  despoiled  me  of  both  gi-ound 
and  house  to  build  this  church.  In  the  great  name  of  GOD,  I 
here  forbid  his  body  to  be  covered  with  the  earth  that  is  my 
right ! "  The  priests  and  bishops  present,  knowing  the  speak- 
er's right,  and  knowing  that  the  King  had  often  denied 
him  justice,  paid  him  down  sixty  shillings  for  the  grave. 
Even  then,  the  corpse  was  not  at  rest.  The  tomb  was  too 
small,  and  they  tried  to  force  it  in.  It  broke,  a  dreadful 
smell  arose,  the  people  hurried  out  into  the  air,  and,  for  the 
third  time,  it  was  left  alone. 

"Where  were  the  Conqueror's  three  sons,  that  they  were  not 


AZELIN  FORBIDDING  THE  BURIAL  OF  WILLIAM  THE  CONQUEROR. 


WILLIAM   THE   CONQUEKOR.  63 

at  their  father's  burial  ?  Robert  was  lounging  among  min- 
strels, dancers,  and  gamesters,  in  P'rance  or  Germany,  llou- 
ry  was  carrying  his  five  thousand  pounds  safely  away  in  a 
convenient  chest  he  had  got  made.  William  the  Red  was 
hurrying  to  England,  to  lay  hands  upon  the  Royal  treasure 
and  the  crown. 


64  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

ENGLAND   UNDER   WILLIAM   THE    SECOND,    CALLED    RTJFUS. 

WILLIAM  THE  RED,  in  breathless  haste  secured  the  three 
great  forts  of  Dover,  Pevensey,  and  Hastings,  and  made 
with  hot  speed  for  Winchester,  where  the  Royal  treasure 
was  kept.  The  treasurer  delivering  him  the  keys,  he  found 
that  it  amounted  to  sixty  thousand  pounds  in  silver,  besides 
gold  and  jewels.  Possessed  of  this  wealth,  he  soon  per- 
suaded the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  to  crown  him,  and 
became  William  the  Second,  King  of  England. 

Rufus  was  no  sooner  on  the  throne,  than  he  ordered  into 
prison  again  the  unhapp}T  state  captives  whom  his  father  had 
set  free,  and  directed  a  goldsmith  to  ornament  his  father's 
tomb  profusety  with  gold  and  silver.  It  would  have  been 
more  dutiful  in  him  to  have  attended  the  sick  Conqueror  when 
he  was  dying;  but  England,  itself,  like  this  Red  King,  who 
once  governed  it,  has  sometimes  made  expensive  tombs  for 
dead  men  whom  it  treated  shabbily  when  the}"  were  alive. 

The  King's  brother,  Robert  of  Normandy,"  seeming  quite 
content  to  be  only  Duke  of  that  country;  and  the  King's 
other  brother,  Fine-Scholar,  being  quiet  enough  with  his  five 
thousand  pounds  in  a  chest ;  the  King  flattered  himself,  we 
ma}'  suppose,  with  the  hope  of  an  easy  reign.  But  easy  reigns 
were  difficult  to  have  in  those  days.  The  turbulent  Bishop 
ODO  (who  had  blessed  the  Norman  army  at  the  Battle  of 
Hastings,  and  who,  I  dare  say,  took  all  the  credit  of  the  vic- 
tory to  himself)  soon  began,  in  concert  with  some  powerful 
Norman  nobles,  to  trouble  the  Red  King. 

The  truth  seems  to  be  that  this  bishop  and  his  friends,  who 


WILLIAM  THE   SECOND.  65 

had  lands  in  England  and  lands  in  Normand}',  wished  to  hold 
both  under  one  Sovereign  ;  and  greatly  preferred  a  thoughtless 
good-natured  person,  such  as  Robert  was,  to  Rufus  ;  who, 
though  far  from  being  an  amiable  man  in  any  respect,  was 
keen,  and  not  to  be  imposed  upon.  The}'  declared  in  Robert's 
favor,  and  retired  to  their  castles  (those  castles  were  very 
troublesome  to  kings)  in  a  sullen  humor.  The  Red  King, 
seeing  the  Normans  thus  falling  from  him,  revenged  himself 
upon  them  by  appealing  to  the  English ;  to  whom  he  made  a 
variety  of  promises,  which  he  never  meant  to  perform  —  in 
particular,  promises  to  soften  the  cruelty  of  the  Forest  Laws  ; 
and  who,  in  return,  so  aided  him  with  their  valor,  that  ODO 
was  besieged  in  the  Castle  of  Rochester,  and  forced  to  aban- 
don it,  and  to  depart  from  England  for  ever ;  whereupon  the 
other  rebeUious  Norman  nobles  were  soon  reduced  and  scat- 
tered. 

Then,  the  Red  King  went  over  to  Normand}-,  where  the 
people  suffered  greatly  under  the  loose  rule  of  Duke  Robert. 
The  King's  object  was  to  seize  upon  the  Duke's  dominions. 
This,  the  Duke,  of  course,  prepared  to  resist ;  and  miserable 
war  between  the  two  brothers  seemed  inevitable,  when  the 
powerful  nobles  on  both  sides,  who  had  seen  so  much  of  war, 
interfered  to  prevent  it.  A  treaty  was  made.  Each  of  the 
two  brothers  agreed  to  give  up  something  of  his  claims,  and 
that  the  longer  liver  of  the  two  should  inherit  all  the  domin- 
ions of  the  other.  When  they  had  come  to  this  loving  under- 
standing, the}T  embraced  and  joined  their  forces  against  Fine- 
Scholar  ;  who  had  bought  some  territory  of  Robert  with  a 
part  of  his  five  thousand  pounds,  and  was  considered  a  dan- 
gerous individual  in  consequence. 

St.  Michael's  Mount,  in  Normandy  (there  is  another  St. 
Michael's  Mount,  in  Cornwall,  wonderfully  like  it),  was  then, 
as  it  is  now,  a  strong  place  perched  upon  the  top  of  a  high 
rock,  around  which,  when  the  tide  is  in,  the  sea  flows,  leaving 
no  road  to  the  mainland.  In  this  place,  Fine-Scholar  shut 
himself  up  with  his  soldiers,  and  here  he  was  closely  besieged 

5 


66  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

b}-  his  two  brothers.  At  one  time,  when  he  was  reduced  to 
great  distress  for  want  of  water,  the  generous  Robert  not  only 
permitted  his  men  to  get  water,  but  sent  Fine-Scholar  wine 
from  his  own  table  ;  and,  on  being  remonstrated  with  b}-  the 
Red  King,  said,  "  What!  shall  we  let  our  own  brother  die 
of  thirst?  Where  shall  we  get  another,  when  he  is  gone?" 
At  another  time,  the  Red  King  riding  alone  on  the  shore  of 
the  bay,  looking  up  at  the  Castle,  was  taken  by  two  of  Fine- 
Scholar's  men,  one  of  whom  was  about  to  kill  him,  when  he 
cried  out,  "  Hold,  knave  !  I  am  the  King  of  England  !  "  The 
story  says  that  the  soldier  raised  him  from  the  ground  respect- 
fully and  humbly,  and  that  the  King  took  him  into  his  service. 
The  story  may  or  may  not  be  true  ;  but  at  any  rate  it  is  true 
that  Fine-Scholar  could  not  hold  out  against  his  united  broth- 
ers, and  that  he  abandoned  Mount  St.  Michael,  and  wandered 
about  —  as  poor  and  forlorn  as  other  scholars  have  been  some- 
times known  to  be. 

The  Scotch  became  unquiet  in  the  Red  King's  time,  and 
were  twice  defeated  —  the  second  time,  with  the  loss  of  their 
King,  Malcolm,  and  his  son.  The  W^elsh  became  unquiet  too. 
Against  them,  Rufus  was  less  successful ;  for  they  fought 
among  their  native  mountains,  and  did  great  execution  on 
the  King's  troops.  Robert  of  Normandy  became  unquiet 
too  ;  and  complaining  that  his  brother  the  King  did  not  faith- 
fully perform  his  part  of  their  agreement,  took  up  arms,  and 
obtained  assistance  from  the  King  of  France,  whom  Rufus, 
in  the  end,  bought  off  with  vast  sums  of  money.  England 
became  unquiet  too.  Lord  Mowbray,  the  powerful  Earl  of 
Northumberland,  headed  a  great  conspiracy  to  depose  the 
King,  and  to  place  upon  the  throne,  STEPHEN,  the  Conqueror's 
near  relative.  The  plot  was  discovered;  all  the  chief  con- 
spirators were  seized ;  some  were  fined,  some  were  put  ill 
prison,  some  were  put  to  death.  The  Earl  of  Northumberland 
himself  was  shut  up  in  a  dungeon  beneath  Windsor  Castle, 
where  he  died,  an  old  man,  thirty  long  years  afterwards. 
The  Priests  in  England  were  more  unquiet  than  any  other 


WILLIAM   THE   SECOND.  67 

class  or  power ;  for  the  Red  King  treated  them  with  such 
small  ceremony  that  he  refused  to  appoint  new  bishops  or 
archbishops  when  the  old  ones  died,  but  kept  all  the  wealth 
belonging  to  those  offices  in  his  own  hands.  In  return  for 
this,  the  Priests  wrote  his  life  when  he  was  dead,  and  abused 
him  well.  I  am  inclined  to  think,  myself,  that  there  was 
little  to  choose  between  the  Priests  and  the  Red  King ;  that 
both  sides  were  greedy  and  designing ;  and  that  they  were 
fairly  matched. 

The  Red  King  was  false  of  heart,  selfish,  covetous,  and 
mean.  He  had  a  worthy  minister  in  his  favorite,  Ralph, 
nicknamed  —  for  almost  every  famous  person  had  a  nickname 
in  those  rough  da}rs  —  Flambard,  or  the  Firebrand.  Once, 
the  King  being  ill,  became  penitent,  and  made  ANSELM,  a 
foreign  priest  and  a  good  man,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury. 
But  he  no  sooner  got  well  again  than  he  repented  of  his  re- 
pentance, and  persisted  in  wrongfully  keeping  to  himself  some 
of  the  wealth  belonging  to  the  archbishopric.  This  led  to 
violent  disputes,  which  were  aggravated  by  there  being  in 
Rome  at  that  time  two  rival  Popes ;  each  of  whom  declared 
he  was  the  only  real  original  infallible  Pope,  who  couldn't 
make  a  mistake.  At  last,  Anselm,  knowing  the  Red  King's 
character,  and  not  feeling  himself  safe  in  England,  asked 
leave  to  return  abroad.  The  Red  King  gladly  gave  it ;  for 
he  knew  that  as  soon  as  Anselm  was  gone,  he  could  begin  to 
store  up  all  the  Canterbury  money  again,  for  his  own  use, 

By  such  means,  and  by  taxing  and  oppressing  the  English 
people  in  every  possible  way,  the  Red  King  became  very  rich. 
When  he  wanted  money  for  any  purpose,  he  raised  it  by  some 
means  or  other,  and  cared  nothing  for  the  injustice  he  did,  or 
the  misery  he  caused.  Having  the  opportunity  of  buying 
from  Robert  the  whole  duchy  of  Normandy  for  five  years,  he 
taxed  the  English  people  more  than  ever,  and  made  the  very 
convents  sell  their  plate  and  valuables  to  supply  him  with  the 
means  to  make  the  purchase.  But  he  was  as  quick  and  eager 
in  putting  down  revolt  as  he  was  in  raising  money ;  for,  a 


68  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

part  of  the  Norman  people  objecting  —  very  naturally,  I  think 
—  to  being  sold  in  this  way,  he  headed  an  arm}7  against  them 
with  all  the  speed  and  energy  of  his  father.  He  was  so  im- 
patient, that  he  embarked  for  Normandy  in  a  great  gale  of 
wind.  And  when  the  sailors  told  him  it  was  dangerous  to  go 
to  sea  in  such  angry  weather,  he  replied,  "Hoist  sail  and 
away  !  Did  }TOU  ever  hear  of  a  king  who  was  drowned?  " 

You  will  wonder  how  it  was  that  even  the  careless  Robert 
came  to  sell  his  dominions.  It  happened  thus.  It  had  long 
been  the  custom  for  many  English  people  to  make  journeys  to 
Jerusalem,  which  were  called  pilgrimages,  in  order  that  they 
might  pray  beside  the  tomb  of  Our  Saviour  there.  Jerusalem 
belonging  to  the  Turks,  and  the  Turks  hating  Christianity, 
these  Christian  travellers  were  often  insulted  and  ill-used. 
The  pilgrims  bore  it  patiently  for  some  time,  but  at  length  a 
remarkable  man,  of  great  earnestness  and  eloquence,  called 
PETER  THE  HERMIT,  began  to  preach  in  various  places  against 
the  Turks,  and  to  declare  that  it  was  the  duty  of  good  Chris- 
tians to  drive  away  those  unbelievers  from  the  tomb  of  Our 
Saviour,  and  to  take  possession  of  it,  and  protect  it.  An 
excitement  such  as  the  world  had  never  known  before  was 
created.  Thousands  and  thousands  of  men  of  all  ranks  and 
conditions  departed  for  Jerusalem  to  make  war  against  the 
Turks.  The  war  is  called  in  history  the  first  Crusade  ;  and 
every  Crusader  wore  a  cross  marked  on  his  right  shoulder. 

All  the  Crusaders  were  not  zealous  Christians.  Among 
them  were  vast  numbers  of  the  restless,  idle,  profligate,  and 
adventurous  spirits  of  the  time.  Some  became  Crusaders  for 
the  love  of  change ;  some,  in  the  hope  of  plunder ;  some, 
because  the}'  had  nothing  to  do  at  home ;  some,  because  they 
did  what  the  priests  told  them ;  some,  because  they  liked  to 
see  foreign  countries  ;  some,  because  they  were  fond  of  knock- 
ing men  about,  and  would  as  soon  knock  a  Turk  about  as  a 
Christian.  Robert  of  Normandy  may  have  been  influenced 
by  all  these  motives  ;  and  by  a  kind  desire,  besides,  to  save 
the  Christian  Pilgrims  from  bad  treatment  in  future.  He 


WILLIAM   THE   SECOND.  69 

wanted  to  raise  a  number  of  armed  men,  and  to  go  to  the 
Crusade.  He  could  not  do  so  without  money.  He  had  no 
money ;  and  he  sold  his  dominions  to  his  brother,  the  Red 
King,  for  five  years.  With  the  large  sum  he  thus  obtained, 
he  fitted  out  his  Crusaders  gallantly,  and  went  away  to  Jeru- 
salem in  martial  state.  The  Red  King,  who  made  money  out 
of  even'thing,  stayed  at  home,  busily  squeezing  more  money 
out  of  Normans  and  English. 

After  three  }rears  of  great  hardship  and  suffering  —  from 
shipwreck  at  sea ;  from  travel  in  strange  lands ;  from  hunger, 
thirst,  and  fever,  upon  the  burning  sands  of  the  desert ;  and 
from  the  fury  of  the  Turks  —  the  valiant  Crusaders  got  pos- 
session of  our  Saviour's  tomb.  The  Turks  were  still  resisting 
and  fighting  bravely,  but  this  success  increased  the  general 
desire  in  Europe  to  join  the  Crusade.  Another  great  French 
Duke  was  proposing  to  sell  his  dominions  for  a  term  to  the 
rich  Red  King,  when  the  Red  King's  reign  came  to  a  sudden 
and  violent  end. 

You  have  not  forgotten  the  New  Forest  which  the  Con- 
queror made,  and  which  the  miserable  people  whose  homes 
he  had  laid  waste,  so  hated.  The  cruelty  of  the  Forest  Laws, 
and  the  torture  and  death  they  brought  upon  the  peasantry, 
increased  this  hatred.  The  poor  persecuted  country  people 
believed  that  the  New  Forest  was  enchanted.  They  said  that 
in  thunder-storms,  and  on  dark  nights,  demons  appeared, 
moving  beneath  the  branches  of  the  gloomy  trees.  They 
said  that  a  terrible  spectre  had  foretold  to  Norman  hunters 
that  the  Red  King  should  be  punished  there.  And  now,  in 
the  pleasant  season  of  May,  when  the  Red  King  had  reigned 
almost  thirteen  }Tears  ;  and  a  second  Prince  of  the  Conqueror's 
blood  —  another  Richard,  the  son  of  Duke  Robert  —  w?.s 
killed  by  an  arrow  in  this  dreaded  forest ;  the  people  said  the 
second  time  was  not  the  last,  and  that  there  was  another 
death  to  come. 

It  was  a  lonely  forest,  accursed  in  the  people's  hearts  for 
the  wicked  deeds  that  had  been  done  to  make  it ;  and  no  man 


70  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

save  the  King  and  his  Courtiers  and  Huntsmen,  liked  to  stray 
there.  But,  in  reality,  it  was  like  any  other  forest.  In  the 
spring,  the  green  leaves  broke  out  of  the  buds  ;  in  the  sum- 
mer, flourished  heartily,  and  made  deep  shades  ;  in  the  win- 
ter, shrivelled  and  blew  down,  and  lay  in  brown  heaps  on  the 
moss.  Some  trees  were  stately,  and  grew  high  and  strong : 
some  had  fallen  of  themselves ;  some  were  felled  b}-  the 
forester's  axe ;  some  were  hollow,  and  the  rabbits  burrowed 
at  their  roots ;  some  few  were  struck  by  lightning,  and 
stood  white  and  bare.  There  were  hill-sides  covered  with 
rich  fern,  on  which  the  morning  dew  so  beautifully  sparkled  ; 
there  were  brooks,  where  the  deer  went  down  to  drink,  or 
over  which  the  whole  herd  bounded,  flying  from  the  arrows  of 
the  huntsmen ;  there  were  sunny  glades,  and  solemn  places 
where  but  little  light  came  through  the  rustling  leaves.  The 
songs  of  the  birds  in  the  New  Forest  were  pleasanter  to  hear 
than  the  shouts  of  fighting  men  outside  ;  and  even  when  the 
Red  King  and  his  Court  came  hunting  through  its  solitudes, 
cursing  loud  and  riding  hard,  with  a  jingling  of  stirrups  and 
bridles  and  knives  and  daggers,  they  did  much  less  harm 
there  than  among  the  English  or  Normans,  and  the  stags 
died  (as  they  lived)  far  easier  than  the  people. 

Upon  a  day  in  August,  the  Red  King,  now  reconciled  to 
his  brother,  Fine- Scholar,  came  with  a  great  train  to  hunt  in 
the  New  Forest.  Fine-Scholar  was  of  the  party.  They  were 
a  merry  party,  and  had  lain  all  night  at  Malwood-Keep,  a 
hunting-lodge  in  the  forest,  where  they  had  made  good  cheer, 
both  at  supper  and  breakfast,  and  had  drunk  a  deal  of  wine. 
The  part}r  dispersed  in  various  directions,  as  the  custom  of 
hunters  then  was.  The  King  took  with  him  only  SIR  WAL- 
TER TYRREL,  who  was  a  famous  sportsman,  and  to  whom  he 
had  given,  before  they  mounted  horse  that  morning,  two  fine 
arrows. 

The  last  time  the  King  was  ever  seen  alive,  he  was  riding 
with  Sir  Walter  Tyrrel,  and  their  dogs  were  hunting  together. 

It  was  almost  night,  when  a  poor  charcoal-burner,  passing 


WILLIAM   THE   SECOND.  71 

through  the  forest  with  his  cart,  came  upon  the  solitar}7  body 
of  a  dead  man,  shot  with  an  arrow  in  the  breast,  and  still 
bleeding.  He  got  it  into  his  cart.  It  was  the  body  of  the 
King.  Shaken  and  tumbled,  with  its  red  beard  all  whitened 
with  lime  and  clotted  with  blood,  it  was  driven  in  the  cart  by 
the  charcoal-burner  next  day  to  Winchester  Cathedral,  where 
it  was  received  and  buried. 

Sir  Walter  Tyrrel,  who  escaped  to  Normancty,  and  claimed 
the  protection  of  the  King  of  France,  swore  in  France  that 
the  Red  King  was  suddenly  shot  dead  by  an  arrow  from  an 
unseen  hand,  while  they  were  hunting  together ;  that  he  was 
fearful  of  being  suspected  as  the  King's  murderer ;  and  that 
he  instantly  set  spurs  to  his  horse,  and  fled  to  the  sea-shore. 
Others  declared  that  the  King  and  Sir  Walter  Tyrrel  were 
hunting  in  company,  a  little  before  sunset,  standing  in  bushes 
opposite  one  another,  when  a  stag  came  between  them.  That 
the  King  drew  his  bow  and  took  aim,  but  the  string  broke. 
That  the  King  then  cried,  "  Shoot,  Walter,  in  the  Devil's 
name !  "  That  Sir  Walter  shot.  That  the  arrow  glanced 
against  a  tree,  was  turned  aside  from  the  stag,  and  struck 
the  King  from  his  horse,  dead. 

By  whose  hand  the  Red  King  really  fell,  and  whether  that 
hand  despatched  the  arrow  to  his  breast  by  accident  or  by 
design,  is  only  known  to  GOD.  Some  think  his  brother  may 
have  caused  him  to  be  killed  ;  but  the  Red  King  had  made  so 
man}-  enemies,  both  among  priests  and  people,  that  suspicion 
may  reasonably  rest  upon  a  less  unnatural  murderer.  Men 
know  no  more  than  that  he  was  found  dead  in  the  New  For- 
est, which  the  suffering  people  had  regarded  as  a  doomed 
ground  for  his  race. 


72  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER    X. 

ENGLAND    UNDER   HENRY   THE    FIRST,    CALLED    FINE-SCHOLAR. 

FINE-SCHOLAR,  on  hearing  of  the  Red  King's  death,  hur- 
ried to  Winchester,  with  as  much  speed  as  Rufus  himself 
had  made,  to  seize  the  Royal  treasure.  But  the  keeper  of 
the  treasure,  who  had  been  one  of  the  hunting-party  in  the 
Forest,  made  haste  to  Winchester,  too,  and,  arriving  there 
about  the  same  time,  refused  to  yield  it  up.  Upon  this, 
Fine-Scholar  drew  his  sword,  and  threatened  to  kill  the  treas- 
urer ;  who  might  have  paid  for  his  fidelity  with  his  life,  but 
that  he  knew  longer  resistance  to  be  useless  when  he  found 
the  Prince  supported  by  a  company  of  powerful  barons,  who 
declared  they  were  determined  to  make  him  King.  The 
treasurer,  therefore,  gave  up  the  money  and  jewels  of  the 
Crown  ;  and  on  the  third  day  after  the  death  of  the  Red  King, 
being  a  Sunday,  Fine-Scholar  stood  before  the  high  altar  in 
Westminster  Abbey,  and  made  a  solemn  declaration  that  he 
would  resign  the  Church  property  which  his  brother  had 
seized ;  that  he  would  do  no  wrong  to  the  nobles ;  and  that 
he  would  restore  to  the  people  the  laws  of  Edward  the  Con- 
fessor, with  all  the  improvements  of  William  the  Conqueror. 
So  began  the  reign  of  KING  HENRY,  THE  FIRST. 

The  people  were  attached  to  their  new  King,  both  because 
he  had  known  distresses,  and  because  he  was  an  Englishman 
by  birth  and  not  a  Norman.  To  strengthen  this  last  hold 
upon  them,  the  King  wished  to  marry  an  English  lady  ;  and 
could  think  of  no  other  wife  than  MAUD  THE  GOOD,  the 
daughter  of  the  King  of  Scotland.  Although  this  good  Prin- 
cess did  not  love  the  King,  she  was  so  affected  by  the  repre- 


HENRY  THE   FIRST.  73 

sentations  the  nobles  made  to  her  of  the  great  chanty  it 
would  be  in  her  to  unite  the  Norman  and  Saxon  races,  and 
prevent  hatred  and  bloodshed  between  them  for  the  future, 
that  she  consented  to  become  his  wife.  After  some  disputing 
among  the  priests,  who  said  that  as  she  had  been  in  a  convent 
in  her  youth,  and  had  worn  the  veil  of  a  nun,  she  could  not 
lawfully  be  married  —  against  which  the  Princess  stated  that 
her  aunt,  with  whom  she  had  lived  in  her  youth,  had  indeed 
sometimes  thrown  a  piece  of  black  stuff'  over  her,  but  for  no 
other  reason  than  because  the  nun's  veil  was  the  only  dress 
the  conquering  Normans  respected  in  girl  or  woman,  and 
not  because  she  had  taken  the  vows  of  a  nun,  which  she 
never  had  —  she  was  declared  free  to  marry,  and  was 
made  King  Henry's  Queen.  A  good  Queen  she  was  ;  beau- 
tiful, kind-hearted,  and  worthy  of  a  better  husband  than  the 
King. 

For  he  was  a  cunning  and  unscrupulous  man,  though  firm 
and  clever.  He  cared  very  little  for  his  word,  and  took  any 
means  to  gain  his  ends.  All  this  is  shown  in  his  treatment 
of  his  brother  Kobert  —  Robert,  who  had  suffered  him  to  be 
refreshed  with  water,  and  who  had  sent  him  the  wine  from 
his  own  table,  when  he  was  shut  up,  with  the  crows  flying 
below  him,  parched  with  thirst,  in  the  castle  on  the  top  of 
St.  Michael's  Mount,  where  his  Red  brother  would  have  let 
him  die. 

Before  the  King  began  to  deal  with  Robert,  he  removed 
and  disgraced  all  the  favorites  of  the  late  King ;  who  were 
for  the  most  part  base  characters,  much  detested  by  the 
people.  Flambard,  or  Firebrand,  whom  the  late  King  had 
made  Bishop  of  Durham,  of  all  things  in  the  world,  Henry 
imprisoned  in  the  Tower ;  but  Firebrand  was  a  great  joker 
and  a  jolly  companion,  and  made  himself  so  popular  with  his 
guards  that  they  pretended  to  know  nothing  about  a  long 
rope  that  was  sent  into  his  prison  at  the  bottom  of  a  deep 
flagon  of  wine.  The  guards  took  the  wine,  and  Firebrand 
took  the  rope ;  with  which,  when  they  were  fast  asleep,  he 


74  A   CHILD'S   HISTOKY   OF   ENGLAND. 

let  himself  down  from  a  window  in  the  night,  and  so  got 
cleverly  aboard  ship  and  away  to  Normandy. 

Now  Robert,  when  his  brother  Fine-Scholar  came  to  the 
throne,  was  still  absent  in  the  Holy  Land.  Henry  pretended 
that  Robert  had  been  made  Sovereign  of  that  countr}- ;  and 
he  had  been  away  so  long  that  the  ignorant  people  believed 
it.  But,  behold,  when  Henry  had  been  some  time  King  of 
England,  Robert  came  home  to  Normandy  ;  having  leisurely 
returned  from  Jerusalem  through  Italy,  in  which  beautiful 
country  he  had  enjoyed  himself  very  much,  and  had  married 
a  lad}-  as  beautiful  as  itself!  In  Normandy  he  found  Fire- 
brand waiting  to  urge  him  to  assert  his  claim  to  the  English 
crown,  and  declare  war  against  King  Henry.  This,  after 
great  loss  of  time  in  feasting  and  dancing  with  his  beautiful 
Italian  wife  among  his  Norman  friends,  he  at  last  did. 

The  English  in  general  were  on  King  Henry's  side,  though 
many  of  the  Normans  were  on  Robert's.  But  the  English 
sailors  deserted  the  King,  and  took  a  great  part  of  the  English 
fleet  over  to  Normandy  ;  so  that  Robert  came  to  invade  this 
country  in  no  foreign  vessels,  but  in  English  ships.  The  vir- 
tuous Anselm,  however,  whom  Henry  had  invited  back  from 
abroad,  and  made  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  was  steadfast 
in  the  King's  cause  ;  and  it  was  so  well  supported  that  the  two 
armies,  instead  of  fighting,  made  a  peace.  Poor  Robert,  who 
trusted  anybody  and  everybody,  readily  trusted  his  brother, 
the  King  ;  and  agreed  to  go  home  and  receive  a  pension  from 
England,  on  condition  that  all  his  followers  were  fully  par- 
doned. This  the  King  very  faithfully  promised,  but  Robert 
was  no  sooner  gone  than  he  began  to  punish  them. 

Among  them  was  the  Earl  of  Shrewsbury,  who,  on  being 
summoned  by  the  King  to  answer  to  five- and- forty  accusa- 
tions, rode  away  to  one  of  his  strong  castles,  shut  himself  up 
therein,  called  around  him  his  tenants  and  vassals,  and  fought 
for  his  liberty,  but  was  defeated  and  banished.  Robert,  with 
all  his  faults,  was  so  true  to  his  word,  that  when  he  first  heard 
of  this  nobleman  having  risen  against  his  brother,  he  laid 


HENRY   THE   FIRST.  75 

waste  the  Earl  of  Shrewsbury's  estates  in  Normandy,  to  show 
the  King  that  he  would  favor  no  breach  of  their  treaty. 
Finding,  on  better  information,  afterwards,  that  the  Earl's 
only  crime  was  having  been  his  friend,  he  came  over  to  Eng- 
land, in  his  old  thoughtless  warm-hearted  way,  to  intercede 
with  the  King,  and  remind  him  of  the  solemn  promise  to 
pardon  all  his  followers. 

This  confidence  might  have  put  the  false  King  to  the  blush, 
but  it  did  not.  Pretending  to  be  very  friendly,  he  so  sur- 
rounded his  brother  with  spies  and  traps,  that  Robert,  who 
was  quite  in  his  power,  had  nothing  for  it  but  to  renounce  his 
pension  and  escape  while  he  could.  Getting  home  to  Nor- 
inand}',  and  understanding  the  King  better  now,  he  naturally 
allied  himself  with  his  old  friend  the  Earl  of  Shrewsbmy,  who 
had  still  thirty  castles  in  that  country.  This  was  exactly 
what  Henry  wanted.  He  immediately  declared  that  Robert 
had  broken  the  treaty,  and  next  j'ear  invaded  Normandy. 

He  pretended  that  he  came  to  deliver  the  Normans,  at  their 
own  request,  from  his  brother's  misrule.  There  is  reason  to 
fear  that  his  misrule  was  bad  enough :  for  his  beautiful  wife 
had  died,  leaving  him  with  an  infant  son,  and  his  court  was 
again  so  careless,  dissipated,  and  ill-regulated,  that  it  was 
said  he  'sometimes  lay  in  bed  of  a  da}r  for  want  of  clothes  to 
put  on  —  his  attendants  having  stolen  all  his  dresses.  But 
he  headed  his  army  like  a  brave  prince  and  a  gallant  soldier, 
though  he  had  the  misfortune  to  be  taken  prisoner  b}-  King 
Hemy,  with  four  hundred  of  his  Knights. .  Among  them  was 
poor  harmless  Edgar  Atheling,  who  loved  Robert  well.  Ed- 
gar was  not  important  enough  to  be  severe  with.  The  Kjng 
afterwards  gave  him  a  small  pension,  which  he  lived  upon 
and  died  upon,  in  peace,  among  the  quiet  woods  and  fields  of 
England. 

And  Robert  —  poor,  kind,  generous,  wasteful,  heedless 
Robert,  with  so  many  faults,  and  yet  with  virtues  that  might 
have  made  a  better  and  a  happier  man  —  what  was  the  end 
of  him?  If  the  King  had  had  the  magnanimity  to  say  with  a 


76  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

kind  air,  "Brother,  tell  me,  before  these  noblemen,  that  from 
this  time  }*ou  will  be  my  faithful  follower  and  friend,  and 
never  raise  your  hand  against  me  or  my  forees  more  !  "  he 
might  have  trusted  Robert  to  the  death.  But  the  King  was 
not  a  magnanimous  man.  He  sentenced  his  brother  to  be 
confined  for  life  in  one  of  the  Royal  Castles.  In  the  begin- 
ning of  his  imprisonment,  he  was  allowed  to  ride  out,  guarded  ; 
but  he  one  day  broke  away  from  his  guard  and  galloped  off. 
He  had  the  evil  fortune  to  ride  into  a  swamp,  where  his  horse 
stuck  fast  and  he  was  taken.  When  the  King  heard  of  it  he 
ordered  him  to  be  blinded,  which  was  done  by  putting  a  red- 
hot  metal  basin  on  his  eyes. 

And  so,  in  darkness  and  in  prison,  many  years,  he  thought 
of  all  his  past  life,  of  the  time  he  had  wasted,  of  the  treasure 
he  had  squandered,  of  the  opportunities  he  had  lost,  of  the 
youth  he  had  thrown  away,  of  the  talents  he  had  neglected. 
Sometimes,  on  fine  autumn  mornings,  he  would  sit  and  think 
of  the  old  hunting  parties  in  the  free  Forest,  where  he  had 
been  the  foremost  and  the  gayest.  Sometimes,  in  the  still 
nights,  he  would  wake,  and  mourn  for  the  many  nights  that 
had  stolen  past  him  at  the  gaming-table ;  sometimes,  would 
seem  to  hear,  upon  the  melancholy  wind,  the  old  songs  of  the 
minstrels ;  sometimes,  would  dream,  in  his  blindness,  of  the 
light  and  glitter  of  the  Norman  Court.  Man}-  and  many  a 
time,  he  groped  back,  in  his  fane}7,  to  Jerusalem,  where  he 
had  fought  so  well ;  or,  at  the  head  of  his  brave  companions, 
bowed  his  feathered  helmet  to  the  shouts  of  welcome  greeting 
him  in  Italy,  and  seemed  again  to  walk  among  the  sunny 
vineyards,  or  on  the  shore  of  the  blue  sea,  with  his  lovely 
wife.  And  then,  thinking  of  her  grave,  and  of  his  fatherless 
boy,  he  would  stretch  out  his  solitary  arms  and  weep. 

At  length  one  day  there  lay  in  prison  dead,  with  cruel  and 
disfiguring  scars  upon  his  eyelids,  bandaged  from  his  jailer's 
sight,  but  on  which  the  eternal  heavens  looked  down,  a  worn 
old  man  of  eighty.  He  had  once  been  Robert  of  Normandy. 
Pity  him ! 


HENRY  THE   FIRST.  ?7 

At  the  time  when  Robert  of  Normandy  was  taken  prisoner 
b}r  his  brother,  Robert's  little  son  was  only  five  }-ears  old. 
This  child  was  taken,  too,  and  carried  before  the  King,  sob- 
bing and  crying ;  for,  young  as  he  was,  he  knew  he  had  good 
reason  to  be  afraid  of  his  Royal  uncle.  The  King  was  not 
much  accustomed  to  pity  those  who  were  in  his  power,  but 
his  cold  heart  seemed  for  the  moment  to  soften  towards  the 
boy.  He  was  observed  to  make  a  great  effort,  as  if  to  pre- 
vent himself  from  being  cruel,  and  ordered  the  child  to  be 
taken  away  ;  whereupon  a  certain  Baron,  who  had  married  a 
daughter  of  Duke  Robert's  (by  name,  Helie  of  Saint  Saen), 
took  charge  of  him,  tenderly.  The  King's  gentleness  did  not 
last  long.  Before  two  years  were  over,  he  sent  messengers 
to  this  lord's  Castle  to  seize  the  child  and  bring  him  away. 
The  Baron  was  not  there  at  the  time,  but  his  servants  were 
faithful,  and  carried  the  boy  off  in  his  sleep  and  hid  him. 
When  the  Baron  came  home,  and  was  told  what  the  King  had 
done,  he  took  the  child  abroad,  and  leading  him  by  the  hand, 
went  from  King  to  King  and  from  Court  to  Court,  relating 
how  the  child  had  a  claim  to  the  throne  of  England,  and  how 
his  Uncle  the  King,  knowing  that  he  had  that  claim,  would 
have  murdered  him,  perhaps,  but  for  his  escape. 

The  youth  and  innocence  of  the  pretty  little  WILLIAM  FITZ- 
ROBERT  (for  that  was  his  name)  made  him  many  friends  at 
that  time.  When  he  became  a  j'oung  man,  the  King  of 
France,  uniting  with  the  French  Counts  of  Anjou  and  Flan- 
ders, supported  his  cause  against  the  King  of  England,  and 
took  many  of  the  King's  towns  and  castles  in  Normand}'. 
But,  King  Hemy,  artful  and  cunning  always,  bribed  some  of 
William's  friends  with  money,  some  with  promises,  some  with 
power.  He  bought  off  the  Count  of  Anjou,  by  promising  to 
marry  his  eldest  son,  also  named  WILLIAM,  to  the  Count's 
daughter ;  and  indeed  the  whole  trust  of  this  King's  life  was 
in  such  bargains,  and  he  believed  (as  man}T  another  King  has 
done  since,  and  as  one  King  did  in  France  a  very  little  time 
ago)  that  every  man's  truth  and  honor  can  be  bought  at  some 


78  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

price.  For  all  this,  he  was  so  afraid  of  William  Fitz-Robert 
and  his  friends,  that,  for  a  long  time,  he  believed  his  life  to 
be  in  danger ;  and  never  lay  down  to  sleep,  even  in  his  pal- 
ace surrounded  by  his  guards,  without  having  a  sword  and 
buckler  at  his  bedside. 

To  strengthen  his  power,  the  King  with  great  ceremony  be- 
trothed his  eldest  daughter  MATILDA,  then  a  child  only  eight 
years  old,  to  be  the  wife  of  Henry  the  Fifth,  the  Emperor  of 
Germany.  To  raise  her  marriage-portion,  he  taxed  the  Eng- 
lish people  in  a  most  oppressive  manner ;  then  treated  them 
to  a  great  procession  to  restore  their  good  humor ;  and  sent 
Matilda  away,  in  fine  state,  with  the  German  ambassadors, 
to  be  educated  in  the  country  of  her  future  husband. 

And  now  his  Queen,  Maud  the  Good,  unhappily  died.  It 
was  a  sad  thought  for  that  gentle  lad}',  that  the  only  hope 
with  which  she  had  married  a  man  whom  she  had  never  loved 
—  the  hope  of  reconciling  the  Norman  and  English  races  — 
had  failed.  At  the  very  time  of  her  death,  Normandy  and 
all  France  was  in  arms  against  England ;  for,  so  soon  as  his 
last  danger  was  over,  King  Henry  had  been  false  to  all  the 
French  powers  he  had  promised,  bribed,  and  bought,  and 
the}'  had  naturally  united  against  him.  After  some  fighting, 
however,  in  which  few  suffered  but  the  unhappy  common 
people  (who  always  suffered,  whatsoever  was  the  matter) ,  he 
began  to  promise,  bribe,  and  buy  again  ;  and  by  those  means, 
and  by  the  help  of  the  Pope,  who  exerted  himself  to  save 
more  bloodshed,  and  by  solemnly  declaring,  over  and  over 
again,  that  he  really  was  in  earnest  this  time,  and  would  keep 
his  word,  the  King  made  peace. 

One  of  the  first  consequences  of  this  peace  was,  that  the 
King  went  over  to  Normandy  with  his  son  Prince  William  and 
a  great  retinue,  to  have  the  Prince  acknowledged  as  his  suc- 
cessor by  the  Norman  nobles,  and  to  contract  the  promised 
marriage  (this  was  one  of  the  many  promises  the  King  had 
broken)  between  him  and  the  daughter  of  the  Count  of  An- 
jou.  Both  these  things  were  triumphantly  done,  with  great 


HENRY  T*HE   FIRST.  79 

show  and  rejoicing  ;  and  on  the  twent}'-fifth  of  November,  in 
the  year  one  thousand  one  hundred  and  twenty,  the  whole 
retinue  prepared  to  embark  at  the  Port  of  Barflcur,  for  the 
voyage  home. 

On  that  day,  and  at  that  place,  there  came  to  the  King, 
Fitz-Stephen,  a  sea-captain,  and  said  :  — 

"  My  liege,  my  father  served  your  father  all  his  life,  upon 
the  sea.  He  steered  the  ship  with  the  golden  boy  upon  the 
prow,  in  which  your  father  sailed  to  conquer  England.  I  be- 
seech you  to  grant  me  the  same  office.  I  have  a  fair  vessel 
in  the  harbor  here,  called  The  White  Ship,  manned  by  fifty 
sailors  of  renown.  I  pray  you,  Sire,  to  let  your  servant  have 
the  honor  of  steering  you  in  The  White  Ship  to  England." 

"I  am  sony,  friend,"  replied  the  King,  "that  my  vessel 
is  already  chosen,  and  that  1  cannot  (therefore)  sail  with  the 
son  of  the  man  who  served  my  father.  But  the  Prince  and 
all  his  compan}-  shall  go  along  with  you,  in  the  fair  White 
Ship,  manned  by  the  fifty  sailors  of  renown." 

An  hour  or  two  afterwards,  the  King  set  sail  in  the  vessel 
he  had  chosen,  accompanied  by  other  vessels,  and,  sailing  all 
night  with  a  fair  and  gentle  wind,  arrived  upon  the  coast  of 
England  in  the  morning.  While  it  was  yet  night,  the  people 
in  some  of  those  ships  heard  a  faint  wild  cry  come  over  the 
sea,  and  wondered  what  it  was. 

Now,  the  Prince  was  a  dissolute,  debauched  3'oung  man  of 
eighteen,  who  bore  no  love  to  the  English,  and  had  declared 
that  when  he  came  to  the  throne  he  would  yoke  them  to  the 
plough  like  oxen.  He  went  aboard  The  White  Ship,  with 
one  hundred  and  forty  youthful  Nobles  like  himself,  among 
whom  were  eighteen  noble  ladies  of  the  highest  rank.  All 
this  gay  company,  with  their  servants  and  the  fifty  sailors, 
made  three  hundred  souls  aboard  the  fair  White  Ship. 

"  Give  three  casks  of  wine,  Fitz-Stephen,"  said  the  Prince, 
"to  the  fifty  sailors  of  renown!  My  father  the  King  has 
sailed  out  of  the  harbor.  What  time  is  there  to  make  merry 
here,  and  yet  reach  England  with  the  rest?" 


80  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY    OF   ENGLAND. 

"Prince,"  said  Fitz-Steplien,  "before  morning,  my  fifty 
and  The  White  Ship  shall  overtake  the  swiftest  vessel  in  at- 
tendance on  your  father  the  King,  if  we  sail  at  midnight !  " 

Then,  the  Prince  commanded  to  make  merry ;  and  the 
sailors  drank  out  the  three  casks  of  wine ;  and  the  Prince 
and  all  the  noble  company  danced  in  the  moonlight  on  the 
deck  of  The  White  Ship. 

When,  at  last,  she  shot  out  of  the  harbor  of  Barfleur,  there 
was  not  a  sober  seaman  on  board.  But  the  sails  were  all  set, 
and  the  oars  all  going  merrily^  Fitz-Stephen  had  the  helm. 
The  gay  young  nobles  and  the  beautiful  ladies,  wrapped  in 
mantles  of  various  bright  colors  to  protect  them  from  the 
cold,  talked,  laughed,  and  sang.  The  Prince  encouraged 
the  fifty  sailors  to  row  harder  yet,  for  the  honor  of  The  White 
Ship. 

Crash !  A  terrific  cry  broke  from  three  hundred  hearts. 
It  was  the  cry  the  people  in  the  distant  vessels  of  the  King 
heard  faintly  on  the  water.  The  White  Ship  had  struck  upon 
a  rock  —  was  filling  —  going  down  ! 

Fitz-Stephen  hurried  the  Prince  into  a  boat,  with  some  few 
Nobles.  "  Push  off,"  he  whispered  ;  "  and  row  to  the  land. 
It  is  not  far,  and  the  sea  is  smooth.  The  rest  of  us  must 
die." 

But,  as  they  rowed  away,  fast,  from  the  sinking  ship,  the 
Prince  heard  the  voice  of  his  sister  MARIE,  the  Countess  of 
Perche,  calling  for  help.  He  never  in  his  life  had  been  so 
good  as  he  was  then.  He  cried  in  an  agony,  "  Row  back  at 
any  risk  !  I  cannot  bear  to  leave  her  !  " 

They  rowed  back.  As  the  Prince  held  out  his  arms  to 
catch  his  sister,  such  numbers  leaped  in  that  the  boat  was 
overset.  And  in  the  same  instant  The  White  Ship  went 
down . 

Only  two  men  floated.  They  both  clung  to  the  main  yard 
of  the  ship,  which  had  broken  from  the  mast,  and  now  sup- 
ported them.  One  asked  the  other  who  he  was?  He  said, 
"I  am  a  nobleman,  GOD  KEY  by  name,  the  son  of  GILBERT 


HENKY   THE   FIRST.  81 

DE  L'AIGLE.  And  you?"  said  he.  "I  am  BEHOLD,  a  poor 
butcher  of  Rouen,"  was  the  answer.  Then,  the}'  said  to- 
gether, "  Lord  be  merciful  to  us  both  !  "  and  tried  to  encour- 
age one  another,  as  they  drifted  in  the  cold  benumbing  sea 
on  that  unfortunate  November  night. 

By-and-by,  another  man  came  swimming  towards  them, 
whom  the}*  knew,  when  he  pushed  aside  his  long  wet  hair,  to 
be  Fitz-Stephen.  "  Where  is  the  Prince?  "  said  he.  "  Gone  ! 
Gone  !  "  the  two  cried  together.  "  Neither  he,  nor  his  brother, 
nor  his  sister,  nor  the  King's  niece,  nor  her  brother,  nor  any 
one  of  all  the  brave  three  hundred,  noble  or  commoner,  ex- 
cept we  three,  has  risen  above  the  water !  "  Fitz-Stephen, 
with  a  ghastly  face,  cried,  "  Woe !  woe,  to  me !  "  and  sunk 
to  the  bottom. 

The  other  two  clung  to  the  yard  for  some  hours.  At  length 
the  young  noble  said  faintly,  "I  am  exhausted,  and  chilled 
with  the  cold,  and  can  hold  no  longer.  Farewell,  good  friend  ! 
God  preserve  you  !  "  So,  he  dropped  and  sunk  ;  and  of  all 
the  brilliant  crowd,  the  poor  Butcher  of  Rouen  alone  was 
saved.  In  the  morning  some  fishermen  saw  him  floating  in 
his  sheep-skin  coat,  and  got  him  into  their  boat  —  the  sole 
relater  of  the  dismal  tale. 

For  three  days,  no  one  dared  to  carry  the  intelligence  to 
the  King.  At  length  they  sent  into  his  presence  a  little  boy, 
who,  weeping  bitterly  and  kneeling  at  his  feet,  told  him  that 
The  White  Ship  was  lost  with  all  on  board.  The  King  fell 
to  the  ground  like  a  dead  man,  and  never,  never  afterwards 
was  seen  to  smile. 

But  he  plotted  again,  and  promised  again,  and  bribed  and 
bought  again,  in  his  old  deceitful  way.  Having  no  son  to 
succeed  him,  after  all  his  pains  ("The  Prince  will  never 
yoke  us  to  the  plough,  now ! "  said  the  English  people) ,  he 
took  a  second  wife  —  ADELAIS  or  ALICE,  a  Duke's  daughter, 
and  the  Pope's  niece.  Having  no  more  children,  however, 
he  proposed  to  the  Barons  to  swear  that  they  would  recognize 
as  his  successor  his  daughter  Matilda,  whom,  as  she  was  now 

6 


82  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

a  widow,  he  married  to  the  eldest  son  of  the  Count  of  Anjou, 
GEOFFREY,  surnamed  PLAXTAGEXET,  from  a  custom  he  had  of 
wearing  a  sprig  of  flowering  broom  (called  Genet  in  French) 
in  his  cap  for  a  feather.  As  one  false  man  usually  makes 
man}r,  and  as  a  false  King,  in  particular,  is  pretty  certain  to 
make  a  false  Court,  the  Barons  took  the  oath  about  the  suc- 
cession of  Matilda  (and  her  children  after  her) ,  twice  over, 
without  in  the  least  intending  to  keep  it.  The  King  was  now 
relieved  from  any  remaining  fears  of  William  Fitz-Robert,  by 
his  death  in  the  Monastery  of  St.  Omer,  in  France,  at  twenty- 
six  years  old,  of  a  pike-wound  in  the  hand.  And  as  Matilda 
gave  birth  to  three  sons,  he  thought  the  succession  to  the 
throne  secure. 

He  spent  most  of  the  latter  part  of  his  life,  which  was 
troubled  by  family  quarrels,  in  Normandy,  to  be  near  Ma- 
tilda. When  he  had  reigned  upwards  of  thirty-five  years, 
and  was  sixty-seven  years  old,  he  died  of  an  indigestion  and 
fever,  brought  on  by  eating,  when  he  was  far  from  well,  of  a 
fish  called  Lamprey,  against  which  he  had  often  been  cau- 
tioned by  his  physicians.  His  remains  were  brought  over  to 
Reading  Abbey  to  be  buried. 

You  ma}'  perhaps  hear  the  cunning  and  promise-breaking 
of  King  Henry  the  First,  called  "policy"  by  some  people, 
and  "  diplomacy "  by  others.  Neither  of  these  fine  words 
will  in  the  least  mean  that  it  was  true ;  and  nothing  that  is 
not  true  can  possibly  be  good. 

His  greatest  merit,  that  I  know  of,  was  his  love  of  learn- 
ing. I  should  have  given  him  greater  credit  even  for  that,  if 
it  had  been  strong  enough  to  induce  him  to  spare  the  eyes  of 
a  certain  poet  he  once  took  prisoner,  who  was  a  knight  be- 
sides. But  he  ordered  the  poet's  eyes  to  be  torn  from  his 
head,  because  he  had  laughed  at  him  in  his  verses ;  and  the 
poet,  in  the  pain  of  that  torture,  dashed  out  his  own  brains 
against  his  prison  wall.  King  Henry  the  First  was  avaricious, 
revengeful,  and  so  false,  that  I  suppose  a  man  never  lived 
whose  word  was  less  to  be  relied  upon. 


MATILDA   AND   STEPHEN.  83 


CHAPTER    XI. 

ENGLAND    UNDER   MATILDA    AND    STEPHEN. 

THE  King  was  no  sooner  dead  than  all  the  plans  and 
schemes  he  had  labored  at  so  long,  and  lied  so  much  for, 
crumbled  awa}r  like  a  hollow  heap  of  sand.  STEPHEN,  whom 
he  had  never  mistrusted  or  suspected,  started  up  to  claim  the 
throne. 

Stephen  was  the  son  of  ADELA,  the  Conqueror's  daughter, 
married  to  the  Count  of  Blois.  To  Stephen,  and  to  his 
brother  HENRY,  the  late  King  had  been  liberal ;  making  Hen- 
ry Bishop  of  Winchester,  and  finding  a  good  marriage  for 
Stephen,  and  much  enriching  him.  This  did  not  prevent 
Stephen  from  hastily  producing  a  false  witness,  a  servant  of 
the  late  King,  to  swear  that  the  King  had  named  him  for  his 
heir  upon  his  death-bed.  On  this  evidence  the  Archbishop 
of  Canterbury  crowned  him.  The  new  King,  so  suddenly 
made,  lost  not  a  moment  in  seizing  the  Royal  treasure,  and 
hiring  foreign  soldiers  with  some  of  it  to  protect  his  throne. 

If  the  dead  King  had  even  done  as  the  false  witness  said, 
he  would  have  had  small  right  to  will  away  the  English  peo- 
ple, like  so  many  sheep  and  oxen,  without  their  consent. 
But  he  had,  in  fact,  bequeathed  all  his  territory  to  Matilda ; 
who,  supported  by  ROBERT,  Earl  of  Gloucester,  soon  began 
to  dispute  the  crown.  Some  of  the  powerful  barons  and 
priests  took  her  side  ;  some  took  Stephen's  ;  all  fortified  their 
castles ;  and  again  the  miserable  English  people  were  in- 
volved in  war,  from  which  they  could  never  derive  advantage 
whosoever  was  victorious,  and  in  which  all  parties  plundered, 
tortured,  starved,  and  ruined  them. 


84  A   CHILD'S   IIISTOKY   OF   ENGLAND. 

Five  years  had  passed  since  the  death  of  Henry  the  First  — 
and  during  those  five  years  there  had  been  two  terrible  inva- 
sions by  the  people  of  Scotland  under  their  King,  David, 
who  was  at  last  defeated  with  all  his  arm}*-  —  when  Matilda, 
attended  by  her  brother  Robert  and  a  large  force,  appeared 
in  England  to  maintain  her  claim.  A  battle  was  fought  be- 
tween her  troops  and  King  Stephen's  at  Lincoln ;  in  which 
the  King  himself  was  taken  prisoner,  after  bravely  fighting 
until  his  battle-axe  and  sword  were  broken,  and  was  carried 
into  strict  confinement  at  Gloucester.  Matilda  then  submitted 
herself  to  the  Priests,  and  the  Priests  crowned  her  Queen  of 
England. 

She  did  not  long  enjo}'  this  dignit}'.  The  people  of  Lon- 
don had  a  great  affection  for  Stephen ;  many  of  the  Barons 
considered  it  degrading  to  be  ruled  by  a  woman  ;  and  the 
Queen's  temper  was  so  haughty  that  she  made  innumerable 
enemies.  The  people  of  London  revolted ;  and,  in  alliance 
with  the  troops  of  Stephen,  besieged  her  at  Winchester, 
where  the}'  took  her  brother  Robert  prisoner,  whom,  as  her 
best  soldier  and  chief  general,  she  was  glad  to  exchange  for 
Stephen  himself,  who  thus  regained  his  liberty.  Then,  the 
long  war  went  on  afresh.  Once,  she  was  pressed  so  hard  in 
the  Castle  of  Oxford,  in  the  winter  weather  when  the  snow 
lay  thick  upon  the  ground,  that  her  only  chance  of  escape 
was  to  dress  herself  all  in  white,  and,  accompanied  by  no 
more  than  three  faithful  Knights,  dressed  in  like  manner  that 
their  figures  might  not  be  seen  from  Stephen's  camp  as  they 
passed  over  the  snow,  to  steal  away  on  foot,  cross  the  frozen 
Thames,  walk  a  long  distance,  and  at  last  gallop  away  on 
horseback.  All  this  she  did,  but  to  no  great  purpose  then ; 
for  her  brother  dying  while  the  struggle  was  yet  going  on,  she 
at  last  withdrew  to  Normandy. 

In  two  or  three  years  after  her  withdrawal  her  cause  ap- 
peared in  England,  afresh,  in  the  person  of  her  son  Henry, 
young  Plantagenet,  who,  at  only  eighteen  years  of  age,  was 
very  powerful :  not  only  on  account  of  his  mother  having 


ESCAPE  OF  THE  EMPRESS  MAUD  FROM  OXFORD. 


MATILDA  AND   STEPHEN.  8t> 

resigned  all  Normandy  to  him,  but  also  from  his  having  mar- 
ried ELEANOR,  the  divorced  wife  of  the  French  King,  a  bad 
woman,  who  had  great  possessions  in  France.  Louis,  the 
French  King,  not  relishing  this  arrangement,  helped  EUSTACE, 
King  Stephen's  son,  to  invade  Normandy :  but  Henry  drove 
their  united  forces  out  of  that  countrj7,  and  then  returned 
here  to  assist  his  partisans,  whom  the  King  was  then  besieg- 
ing at  Wallingford  upon  the  Thames.  Here,  for  two  days, 
divided  only  by  the  river,  the  two  armies  lay  encamped  op- 
posite to  one  another  —  on  the  eve,  as  it  seemed  to  all  men, 
of  another  desperate  fight,  when  the  EARL  OP  ARUNDEL  took 
heart  and  said  "that  it  was  not  reasonable  to  prolong  the 
unspeakable  miseries  of  two  kingdoms  to  minister  to  the 
ambition  of  two  princes." 

Many  other  noblemen  repeating  and  supporting  this  when 
it  was  once  uttered,  Stephen  and  young  Plantagenet  went 
down,  each  to  his  own  bank  of  the  river,  and  held  a  conver- 
sation across  it,  in  which  they  arranged  a  truce  ;  very  much 
to  the  dissatisfaction  of  Eustace,  who  swaggered  away  with 
some  followers,  and  laid  violent  hands  on  the  Abbey  of  St. 
Edmund's-Bury,  where  he  presently  died  mad.  The  truce 
led  to  a  solemn  council  at  Winchester,  in  which  it  was  agreed 
that  Stephen  should  retain  the  crown,  on  condition  of  his 
declaring  Henry  his  successor ;  that  WILLIAM,  another  son  of 
the  King's,  should  inherit  his  father's  rightful  possessions  ; 
and  that  all  the  Crown  lands  which  Stephen  had  given  away 
should  be  recalled,  and  all  the  Castles  he  had  permitted  to  be 
built  demolished.  Thus  terminated  the  bitter  war,  which  had 
now  lasted  fifteen  years,  and  had  again  laid  England  waste. 
In  the  next  year  STEPHEN  died,  after  a  troubled  reign  of 
nineteen  years. 

Although  King  Stephen  was,  for  the  time  in  which  he  lived, 
a  humane  and  moderate  man,  with  many  excellent  qualities  ; 
and  although  nothing  worse  is  known  of  him  than  his  usurpa- 
tion of  the  Crown,  which  he  probably  excused  to  himself  by 
the  consideration  that  King  Henry  the  First  was  an  usurper 


36  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

too  —  which  was  no  excuse  at  all ;  the  people  of  England 
suffered  more  in  these  dread  nineteen  years,  than  at  any  for- 
mer period  even  of  their  suffering  history.  In  the  division  of 
the  nobility  between  the  two  rival  claimants  of  the  Crown, 
and  in  the  growth  of  what  is  called  the  Feudal  System  (which 
made  the  peasants  the  born  vassals  and  mere  slaves  of  the 
Barons) ,  every  Noble  had  his  strong  Castle,  where  he  reigned 
the  cruel  king  of  all  the  neighboring  people.  Accordingly, 
he  perpetrated  whatever  cruelties  he  chose.  And  never  were 
worse  cruelties  committed  upon  earth  than  in  wretched  Eng- 
land in  those  nineteen  years. 

The  writers  who  were  living  then  describe  them  fearfully. 
The}-  say  that  the  castles  were  filled  with  devils  rather  than 
with  men ;  that  the  peasants,  men  and  women,  were  put  into 
dungeons  for  their  gold  and  silver,  were  tortured  with  fire 
and  smoke,  were  hung  up  by  the  thumbs,  were  hung  up  by 
the  heels  with  great  weights  to  their  heads,  were  torn  with 
jagged  irons,  killed  with  hunger,  broken  to  death  in  narrow 
chests  filled  with  sharp-pointed  stones,  murdered  in  countless 
fiendish  ways.  In  England  there  was  no  corn,  no  meat,  no 
cheese,  no  butter,  there  were  no  tilled  lands,  no  harvests. 
Ashes  of  burnt  towns,  and  dreary  wastes,  were  all  that  the 
traveller,  fearful  of  the  robbers  who  prowled  abroad  at  all 
hours,  would  see  in  a  long  day's  journey ;  and  from  sunrise 
until  night,  he  would  not  come  upon  a  home. 

The  clergy  sometimes  suffered,  and  heavily  too,  from  pil- 
lage, but  many  of  them  had  castles  of  their  own,  and  fought 
in  helmet  and  armor  like  the  barons,  and  drew  lots  with  other 
fighting  men  for  their  share  of  booty.  The  Pope  (or  Bishop 
of  Rome),  on  King  Stephen's  resisting  his  ambition,  laid 
England  under  an  interdict  at  one  period  of  this  reign ; 
which  means  that  he  allowed  no  service  to  be  performed  in 
the  churches,  no  couples  to  be  married,  no  bells  to  be  rung, 
no  dead  bodies  to  be  buried.  Am-  man  having  the  power  to 
refuse  these  things,  no  matter  whether  he  were  called  a  Pope 
or  a  Poulterer,  would,  of  course  have  the  power  of  afflicting 


MATILDA  AND   STEPHEN.  87 

numbers  of  innocent  people.  That  nothing  might  be  want- 
ing to  the  miseries  of  King  Stephen's  time,  the  Pope  threw 
in  this  contribution  to  the  public  store  —  not  very  like  the 
widow's  contribution  as  I  think,  when  Our  Saviour  sat  in 
Jerusalem  over-against  the  Treasury,  "  and  she  threw  in  two 
mites,  which  make  a  farthing." 


S8  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

ENGLAND   UNDER   HENRY   THE    SECOND. 

PART  THE  FIRST. 

HENRY  PLANTAGENET,  when  he  was  but  twenty-one  years 
old,  quietly  succeeded  to  the  throne  of  England,  accord- 
ing to  his  agreement  made  with  the  late  King  at  Win- 
chester. Six  weeks  after  Stephen's  death,  he  and  his  Queen, 
Eleanor,  were  crowned  in  that  city ;  into  which  they  rode  on 
horseback  in  great  state,  side  by  side,  amidst  much  shout- 
ing and  rejoicing,  and  clashing  of  music,  and  strewing  of 
flowers. 

•The  reign  of  King  Henry  the  Second  began  well.  The 
King  had  great  possessions,  and  (what  with  his  own  rights, 
and  what  with  those  of  his  wife)  was  lord  of  one-third  part 
of  France.  He  was  a  young  man  of  vigor,  ability,  and  reso- 
lution, and  immediately  applied  himself  to  remove  some  of 
the  evils  which  had  arisen  in  the  last  unhappy  reign.  He 
revoked  all  the  grants  of  land  that  had  been  hastily  made,  on 
either  side,  during  the  late  struggles  ;  he  obliged  numbers  of 
disorderly  soldiers  to  depart  from  England ;  he  reclaimed  all 
the  castles  belonging  to  the  Crown ;  and  he  forced  the  wicked 
nobles  to  pull  down  their  own  castles,  to  the  number  of 
eleven  hundred,  in  which  such  dismal  cruelties  had  been 
inflicted  on  the  people.  The  King's  brother,  GEOFFREY,  rose 
against  him  in  France,  while  he  was  so  well  employed,  and 
rendered  it  necessary  for  him  to  repair  to  that  country ; 
where,  after  he  had  subdued  and  made  a  friendly  arrange- 
ment with  his  brother  (who  did  not  live  long),  his  ambition 


HENEY   THE   SECOND.  89 

to  increase  his  possessions  involved  him  in  a  war  with  the 
French  King,  Louis,  with  whom  he  had  been  on  such  friendly 
terms  just  before,  that  to  the  French  King's  infant  daughter, 
then  a  bab}r  in  the  cradle,  he  had  promised  one  of  his  little 
sons  in  marriage,  who  was  a  child  of  five  years  old.  How- 
ever, the  war  came  to  nothing  at  last,  and  the  Pope  made 
the  two  Kings  friends  again. 

Now,  the  clergy,  in  the  troubles  of  the  last  reign,  had  gone 
on  very  ill  indeed.  There  were  all  kinds  of  criminals  among 
them  —  murderers,  thieves,  and  vagabonds;  and  the  worst 
of  the  matter  was,  that  the  good  priests  would  not  give  up 
the  bad  priests  to  justice,  when  they  committed  crimes,  but 
persisted  in  sheltering  and  defending  them.  The  King,  well 
knowing  that  there  could  be  no  peace  or  rest  in  England 
while  such  things  lasted,  resolved  to  reduce  the  power  of  the 
clergy ;  and,  when  he  had  reigned  seven  years,  found  (as  he 
considered)  a  good  opportunity  for  doing  so,  in  the  death  of 
the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury.  "I  will  have  for  the  new 
Archbishop,"  thought  the  King,  "a  friend  in  whom  I  can 
trust,  who  will  help  me  to  humble  these  rebellious  priests, 
and  to  have  them  dealt  with,  when  they  do  wrong,  as  other 
men  who  do  wrong  are  dealt  with."  So,  he  resolved  to 
make  his  favorite,  the  new  Archbishop ;  and  this  favorite 
was  so  extraordinary  a  man,  and  his  story  is  so  curious,  that 
I  must  tell  you  all  about  him. 

Once  upon  a  time,  a  worthy  merchant  of  London,  named 
GILBERT  X  BECKET,  made  a  pilgrimage  to  the  Holy  Land, 
and  was  taken  prisoner  by  a  Saracen  lord.  This  lord,  who 
treated  him  kindly  and  not  like  a  slave,  had  one  fair  daughter, 
who  fell  in  love  with  the  merchant ;  and  who  told  him  that 
she  wanted  to  become  a  Christian,  and  was  willing  to  marry 
him  if  they  could  fly  to  a  Christian  country.  The  merchant 
returned  her  love,  until  he  found  an  opportunity  to  escape, 
when  he  did  not  trouble  himself  about  the  Saracen  lady,  but 
escaped  with  his  servant  Richard,  who  had  been  taken  pris- 
oner along  with  him,  and  arrived  in  England  and  forgot  her. 


90  A  CHILD'S   HISTOKY   OF  ENGLAND. 

The  Saracen  lady,  who  was  more  loving  than  the  merchant, 
left  her  father's  house  in  disguise  to  follow  him,  and  made 
her  way,  under  many  hardships,  to  the  sea-shore.  The  mer- 
chant had  taught  her  only  two  English  words  (for  I  suppose 
he  must  have  learnt  the  Saracen  tongue  himself,  and  made 
love  in  that  language) ,  of  which  LONDON  was  one,  and  his 
own  name,  GILBERT,  the  other.  She  went  among  the  ships, 
saying,  "  London  !  London  !  "  over  and  over  again,  until  the 
sailors  understood  that  she  wanted  to  find  an  English  vessel 
that  would  carry  her  there ;  so  they  showed  her  such  a  ship, 
and  she  paid  for  her  passage  with  some  of  her  jewels,  and 
sailed  away.  Well !  The  merchant  was  sitting  in  his  count- 
ing-house in  London  one  da}-,  when  he  heard  a  great  noise  in 
the  street ;  and  presently  Richard  came  running  in  from  the 
warehouse,  with  his  eyes  wide  open  and  his  breath  almost 
gone,  saying,  "Master,  master,  here  is  the  Saracen  lady!" 
The  merchant  thought  Richard  was  mad  ;  but  Richard  said, 
"No,  master!  As  I  live,  the  Saracen  lady  is  going  up  and 
down  the  city,  calling  Gilbert !  Gilbert !  "  Then,  he  took 
the  merchant  by  the  sleeve,  and  pointed  out  at  window ;  and 
there  they  saw  her  among  the  gables  and  water-spouts  of  the 
dark  dirty  street,  in  her  foreign  dress,  so  forlorn,  surrounded 
by  a  wondering  crowd,  and  passing  slowly  along,  calling 
Gilbert,  Gilbert !  When  the  merchant  saw  her,  and  thought 
of  the  tenderness  she  had  shown  him  in  his  captivity,  and  of 
her  constancy,  his  heart  was  moved,  and  he  ran  down  into 
the  street ;  and  she  saw  him  coming,  and  with  a  great  cry 
fainted  in  his  arms.  They  were  married  without  loss  of  time, 
and  Richard  (who  was  an  excellent  man)  danced  with  joy 
the  whole  day  of  the  wedding  ;  and  they  all  lived  happy  ever 
afterwards. 

This  merchant  and  this  Saracen  lady  had  one  son,  THOMAS 
X  BECKET.  He  it  was  who  became  the  Favorite  of  King 
Henry  the  Second. 

He  had  become  Chancellor,  when  the  King  thought  of 
making  him  Archbishop.  He  was  clever,  gay,  well  educated, 


HENRY   THE   SECOND.  91 

brave  ;  had  fought  in  several  battles  in  France  ;  had  defeated 
a  French  knight  in  single  combat,  and  brought  his  horse 
away  as  a  token  of  the  victory.  He  lived  in  a  noble  palace, 
he  was  the  tutor  of  the  young  Prince  Henry,  he  was  served 
by  one  hundred  and  forty  knights,  his  riches  were  immense. 
The  King  once  sent  him  as  his  ambassador  to  France  ;  and 
the  French  people,  beholding  in  what  state  he  travelled,  cried 
out  in  the  streets,  "  How  splendid  must  the  King  of  England 
be,  when  this  is  only  the  Chancellor !  "  They  had  good  rea- 
son to  wonder  at  the  magnificence  of  Thomas  a  Becket,  for, 
when  he  entered  a  French  town,  his  procession  was  headed 
by  two  hundred  and  fifty  singing  boys ;  then,  came  his 
bounds  in  couples  ;  then,  eight  wagons,  each  drawn  by  five 
horses  driven  by  five  drivers ;  two  of  the  wagons  filled  with 
strong  ale  to  be  given  away  to  the  people ;  four,  with  his 
gold  and  silver  plate  and  stately  clothes ;  two,  with  the 
dresses  of  his  numerous  servants.  Then,  came  twelve  horses, 
each  with  a  monkey  on  his  back ;  then,  a  train  of  people 
bearing  shields  and  leading  fine  war-horses  splendidly 
equipped ;  then,  falconers  with  hawks  upon  their  wrists ; 
then,  a  host  of  knights,  and  gentlemen  and  priests  ;  then,  the 
Chancellor  with  his  brilliant  garments  flashing  in  the  sun, 
and  all  the  people  capering  and  shouting  with  delight. 

The  King  was  well  pleased  with  all  this,  thinking  that  it 
only  made  himself  the  more  magnificent  to  have  so  magnifi- 
cent a  favorite  ;  but  he  sometimes  jested  with  the  Chancellor 
upon  his  splendor  too.  Once,  when  they  were  riding  together 
through  the  streets  of  London  in  hard  winter  weather,  they 
saw  a  shivering  old  man  in  rags.  "  Look  at  the  poor  object !  " 
said  the  King.  "Would  it  not  be  a  charitable  act  to  give 
that  aged  man  a  comfortable  warm  cloak?"  "Undoubtedly 
it  would,"  said  Thomas  a  Becket,  "  and  you  do  well,  Sir,  to 
think  of  such  Christian  duties."  "  Come  !"  cried  the  King, 
"  then  give  him  your  cloak  !  "  It  was  made  of  rich  crimson 
trimmed  with  ermine.  The  King  tried  to  pull  it  off,  the 
Chancellor  tried  to  keep  it  on,  both  were  near  rolling  from 


92  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

their  saddles  in  the  mud,  when  the  Chancellor  submitted,  and 
the  King  gave  the  cloak  to  the  old  beggar :  much  to  the  beg- 
gar's astonishment,  and  much  to  the  merriment  of  all  the 
courtiers  in  attendance.  For,  courtiers  are  not  only  eager  to 
laugh  when  the  King  laughs,  but  they  really  do  enjoy  a  laugh 
against  a  Favorite. 

"I  will  make,"  thought  King  Henry  the  Second,  "this 
Chancellor  of  mine,  Thomas  a  Becket,  Archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury. He  will  then  be  the  head  of  the  Church,  and,  being 
devoted  to  me,  will  help  me  to  correct  the  Church.  He  has 
always  upheld  my  power  against  the  power  of  the  clergy,  and 
once  publicly  told  some  bishops  (I  remember) ,  that  men  of 
the  Church  were  equally  bound  to  me  with  men  of  the  sword. 
Thomas  a  Becket  is  the  man,  of  all  other  men  in  England,  to 
help  me  in  my  great  design."  So  the  King,  regardless  of  all 
objection,  either  that  he  was  a  fighting  man,  or  a  lavish  man, 
or  a  courtly  man,  or  a  man  of  pleasure,  or  anj'thing  but  a 
likely  man  for  the  office,  made  him  Archbishop  accordingly. 

Now,  Thomas  a  Becket  was  proud  and  loved  to  'be  famous. 
He  was  alread}'  famous  for  the  pomp  of  his  life,  for  his  riches, 
his  gold  and  silver  plate,  his  wagons,  horses,  and  attendants. 
He  could  do  no  more  in  that  wa}r  than  he  had  done ;  and 
being  tired  of  that  kind  of  fame  (which  is  a  very  poor  one) , 
he  longed  to  have  his  name  celebrated  for  something  else. 
Nothing,  he  knew,  would  render  him  so  famous  in  the  world, 
as  the  setting  of  his  utmost  power  and  ability  against  the 
utmost  power  and  ability  of  the  King.  He  resolved  with  the 
whole  strength  of  his  mind  to  do  it. 

He  may  have  had  some  secret  grudge  against  the  King 
besides.  The  King  may  have  offended  his  proud  humor  at 
some  time  or  other,  for  anything  I  know.  I  think  it  likely, 
because  it  is  a  common  thing  for  Kings,  Princes,  and  other 
great  people,  to  try  the  tempers  of  their  favorites  rather 
severely.  Even  the  little  affair  of  the  crimson  cloak  must 
have  been  anything  but  a  pleasant  one  to  a  haughty  man. 
Thomas  a  Becket  knew  better  than  any  one  in  England  what 


HENKY  THE  SECOND.  93 

the  King  expected  of  him.  In  all  his  sumptuous  life,  he  had 
never  yet  been  in  a  position  to  disappoint  the  King.  He 
could  take  up  that  proud  stand  now,  as  head  of  the  Church  ; 
and  he  determined  that  it  should  be  written  in  history,  either 
that  he  subdued  the  King,  or  that  the  King  subdued  him. 

So,  of  a  sudden,  he  completely  altered  the  whole  manner 
of  his  life.  He  turned  off  all  his  brilliant  followers,  ate 
coarse  food,  drank  bitter  water,  wore  next  his  skin  sackcloth 
covered  with  dirt  and  vermin  (for  it  was  .then  thought  very 
religious  to  be  very  dirty) ,  flogged  his  back  to  punish  him- 
self, lived  chiefly  in  a  little  cell,  washed  the  feet  of  thirteen 
poor  people  every  day,  and  looked  as  miserable  as  he  possi- 
bly could.  If  he  had  put  twelve  hundred  monkeys  on  horse- 
back instead  of  twelve,  and  had  gone  in  procession  with  eight 
thousand  wagons  instead  of  eight,  he  could  not  have  half 
astonished  the  people  so  much  as  by  this  great  change.  It 
soon  caused  him  to  be  more  talked  about  as  an  Archbishop 
than  he  had  been  as  a  Chancellor. 

The  King  was  very  angry ;  and  was  made  still  more  so, 
when  the  new  Archbishop,  claiming  various  estates  from  the 
nobles  as  being  rightfully  Church  property,  required  the 
King  himself,  for  the  same  reason,  to  give  up  Rochester 
Castle,  and  Rochester  City  too.  Not  satisfied  with  this,  he 
declared  that  no  power  but  himself  should  appoint  a  priest  to 
any  Church  in  the  part  of  England  over  which  he  was  Arch- 
bishop ;  and  when  a  certain  gentleman  of  Kent  made  such 
an  appointment,  as  he  claimed  to  have  the  right  to  do, 
Thomas  a  Becket  excommunicated  him. 

Excommunication  was,  next  to  the  Interdict  I  told  you  of 
at  the  close  of  the  last  chapter,  the  great  weapon  of  the 
clerg^y.  It  consisted  in  declaring  the  person  who  was  excom- 
municated, an  outcast  from  the  Church  and  from  all  religious 
offices  ;  and  in  cursing  him  all  over,  from  the  top  of  his  head 
to  the  sole  of  his  foot,  whether  he  was  standing  up,  lying 
down,  sitting,  kneeling,  walking,  running,  hopping,  jumping, 
gaping,  coughing,  sneezing,  or  whatever  else  he  was  doing. 


94  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

This  unchristian  nonsense  would  of  course  have  made  no  sort 
of  difference  to  the  person  cursed  —  who  could  say  his  pra}7crs 
at  home  if  he  were  shut  out  of  church,  and  whom  none  but 
GOD  could  judge  —  but  for  the  fears  and  superstitions  of  the 
people,  who  avoided  excommunicated  persons,  and  made  their 
lives  unhappy.  So,  the  King  said  to  the  New  Archbishop, 
"Take  off  this  Excommunication  from  this  gentleman  of 
Kent."  To  which  the  Archbishop  replied,  "I  shall  do  no 
such  thing." 

The  quarrel  went  on.  A  priest  in  Worcestershire  com- 
mitted a  most  dreadful  murder,  that  aroused  the  horror  of  the 
whole  nation.  The  King  demanded  to  have  this  wretch  de- 
livered up,  to  be  tried  in  the  same  court  and  in  the  same  way 
as  any  other  murderer.  The  Archbishop  refused,  and  kept 
him  in  the  Bishop's  prison.  The  King,  holding  a  solemn 
assembly  in  Westminster  Hall,  demanded  that  in  future  all 
priests  found  guilt}^  before  their  Bishops  of  crimes  against  the 
law  of  the  land  should  be  considered  priests  no  longer,  and 
should  be  delivered  over  to  the  law  of  the  land  for  punishment. 
The  Archbishop  again  refused.  The  King  required  to  know 
whether  the  clergy  would  obey  the  ancient  customs  of  the 
country?  Every  priest  there,  but  one,  said,  after  Thomas  a 
Becket,  "  Saving  my  order."  This  really  meant  that  they 
would  only  obey  those  customs  when  they  did  not  interfere 
with  their  own  claims ;  and  the  King  went  out  of  the  Hall 
in  great  wrath. 

Some  of  the  clergy  began  to  be  afraid,  now,  that  they  were 
going  too  far.  Though  Thomas  a  Becket  was  otherwise  as 
unmoved  as  Westminster  Hall,  they  prevailed  upon  him,  for 
the  sake  of  their  fears,  to  go  to  the  King  at  Woodstock,  and 
promise  to  observe  the  ancient  customs  of  the  country,  with- 
out saying  anything  about  his  order.  The  King  received  this 
submission  favorably,  and  summoned  a  great  council  of  the 
clergy  to  meet  at  the  Castle  of  Clarendon,  by  Salisbury. 
But  when  the  council  met,  the  Archbishop  again  insisted  on 
the  words  "  saving  my  order;"  and  he  still  insisted,  though 


HENRY  THE   SECOND.  95 

lords  entreated  him,  and  priests  wept  before  him  and  knelt 
to  him,  and  an  adjoining  room  was  thrown  open,  filled  with 
armed  soldiers  of  the  King,  to  threaten  him.  At  length  he 
gave  way,  for  that  time,  and  the  ancient  customs  (which  in- 
cluded what  the  King  had  demanded  in  vain)  were  stated  in 
writing,  and  were  signed  and  sealed  by  the  chief  of  the  clergy, 
and  were  called  the  Constitutions  of  Clarendon. 

The  quarrel  went  on,  for  all  that.  The  Archbishop  tried 
to  see  the  King.  The  King  would  not  see  him.  The  Arch- 
bishop tried  to  escape  from  England.  The  sailors  on  the 
coast  would  launch  no  boat  to  take  him  away.  Then,  he 
again  resolved  to  do  his  worst  in  opposition  to  the  King,  and 
began  openly  to  set  the  ancient  customs  at  defiance. 

The  King  summoned  him  before  a  great  council  at  North- 
ampton, where  he  accused  him  of  high  treason,  and  made  a 
claim  against  him,  which  was  not  a  just  one,  for  an  enormous 
sum  of  money.  Thomas  a  Becket  was  alone  against  the 
whole  assembly,  and  the  veiy  Bishops  advised  him  to  resign 
his  office  and  abandon  his  contest  with  the  King.  His  great 
anxiety  and  agitation  stretched  him  on  a  sick-bed  for  two 
da}*s,  but  he  was  still  undaunted.  He  went  to  the  adjourned 
council,  carrying  a  great  cross  in  his  right  hand,  and  sat 
down  holding  it  erect  before  him.  The  King  angrily  retired 
into  an  inner  room.  The  whole  assembly  angrily  retired  and 
left  him  there.  But  there  he  sat.  The  Bishops  came  out 
again  in  a  body,  and  renounced  him  as  a  traitor.  He  only 
said,  "  I  hear  !  "  and  sat  there  still.  The}^  retired  again  into 
the  inner  room,  and  his  trial  proceeded  without  him.  By- 
and-by,  the  Earl  of  Leicester,  heading  the  barons,  came  out 
to  read  his  sentence.  He  refused  to  hear  it,  denied  the  power 
of  the  court,  and  said  he  would  refer  his  cause  to  the  Pope. 
As  he  walked  out  of  the  hall,  with  the  cross  in  his  hand,  some 
of  those  present  picked  up  rushes  —  rushes  were  strewn  upon 
the  floors  in  those  days  by  way  of  carpet  —  and  threw  them 
at  him.  He  proudly  turned  his  head,  and  said  that  were  he 
not  Archbishop,  he  would  chastise  those  cowards  with  the 


96  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

sword  he  had  known  how  to  use  in  bygone  da}*s.  He  then 
mounted  his  horse,  and  rode  away,  cheered  and  surrounded 
by  the  common  people,  to  whom  he  threw  open  his  house  that 
night  and  gave  a  supper,  supping  with  them  himself.  That 
same  night  he  secretly  departed  from  the  town  ;  and  so,  trav- 
elling by  night  and  hiding  by  day,  and  calling  himself  "  Brother 
Dearman,"  got  away  not  without  difficulty,  to  Flanders. 

The  struggle  still  went  on.  The  angry  King  took  posses- 
sion of  the  revenues  of  the  archbishopric,  and  banished  all 
the  relations  and  servants  of  Thomas  a  Becket,  to  the  number 
of  four  hundred.  The  Pope  and  the  French  King  both  pro- 
tected him,  and  an  abbey  was  assigned  for  his  residence. 
Stimulated  by  this  support  Thomas  a  Becket,  on  a  great  fes- 
tival day,  formally  proceeded  to  a  great  church  crowded  with 
people,  and  going  up  into  the  pulpit  publicly  cursed  and 
excommunicated  all  who  had  supported  the  Constitutions  of 
Clarendon  ;  mentioning  many  English  noblemen  by  name, 
and  not  distantly  hinting  at  the  King  of  England  himself. 

When  intelligence  of  this  new  affront  was  earned  to  the 
King  in  his  chamber,  his  passion  was  so  furious  that  he  tore 
his  clothes,  and  rolled  like  a  madman  on  his  bed  of  straw  and 
rushes.  But  he  was  soon  up  and  doing.  He  ordered  all  the 
ports  and  coasts  of  England  to  be  narrowly  watched,  that  no 
letters  of  Interdict  might  be  brought  into  the  kingdom  ;  and 
sent  messengers  and  bribes  to  the  Pope's  palace  at  Rome. 
Meanwhile,  Thomas  a  Becket,  for  his  part,  was  not  idle  at 
Rome,  but  constantly  employed  his  utmost  arts  in  his  own 
behalf.  Thus  the  contest  stood,  until  there  was  peace  be- 
tween France  and  England  (which  had  been  for  some  time  at 
war) ,  and  until  the  two  children  of  the  two  Kings  were  mar- 
ried in  celebration  of  it.  Then,  the  French  King  brought 
about  a  meeting  between  Henry  and  his  old  favorite  so  long 
his  enemy. 

Even  then,  though  Thomas  a  Becket  knelt  before  the  King, 
he  was  obstinate  and  immovable  as  to  those  words  about  his 
order.  King  Louis  of  France  was  weak  enough  in  his  ven- 


HENRY   THE   SECOND.  97 

eration  for  Thomas  a  Becket  and  such  men,  but  this  was  a 
little  too  much  for  him.  He  said  that  a  Becket  "  wanted  to 
be  greater  than  the  saints  and  better  than  St.  Peter,"  and 
rode  away  from  him  with  the  King  of  England.  His  poor 
French  Majesty  asked  a  Becket's  pardon  for  so  doing,  however, 
soon  afterwards,  and  cut  a  very  pitiful  figure. 

At  last,  and  after  a  world  of  trouble,  it  came  to  this. 
There  was  another  meeting  on  French  ground  between  King 
Henry  and  Thomas  a  Becket,  and  it  was  agreed  that  Thomas 
a  Becket  should  be  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  according  to 
the  customs  of  former  Archbishops,  and  that  the  King  should 
put  him  in  possession  of  the  revenues  of  that  post.  And  now, 
indeed,  you  might  suppose  the  struggle  at  an  end,  and  Thomas  a 
Becket  at  rest.  No,  not  even  yet.  For  Thomas  a  Becket  hear- 
ing, b}-  some  means,  that  King  Henry ,  when  he  was  in  dread 
of  his  kingdom  being  placed  under  an  interdict,  had  had  his 
eldest  son  Prince  Henry  secretly  crowned,  not  only  persuaded 
the  Pope  to  suspend  the  Archbishop  of  York  who  had  per- 
formed that  ceremony,  and  to  excommunicate  the  Bishops 
who  had  assisted  at  it,  but  sent  a  messenger  of  his  own  into 
England,  in  spite  of  all  the  King's  precautions  along  the 
coast,  who  delivered  the  letters  of  excommunication  into  the 
Bishops'  own  hands.  Thomas  k  Becket  then  came  over  to 
England  himself,  after  an  absence  of  seven  years.  He  was 
privately  warned  that  it  was  dangerous  to  come,  and  that  an 
ireful  knight  named  RANULF  DE  BROC,  had  threatened  that  he 
should  not  live  to  eat  a  loaf  of  bread  in  England ;  but  he 
came. 

The  common  people  received  him  well,  and  marched  about 
with  him  in  a  soldierly  way,  armed  with  such  rustic  weapons 
as  they  could  get.  He  tried  to  see  the  .young  prince  who  had 
once  been  his  pupil,  but  was  prevented.  He  hoped  for  some 
little  support  among  the  nobles  and  priests,  but  found  none. 
He  made  the  most  of  the  peasants  who  attended  him,  and 
feasted  them,  and  went  from  Canterbuiy  to  Harrow-on-the- 
Hill,  and  from  Harrow-on-the-Hill  back  to  Canterbury,  and 

7 


98  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

on  Christmas  Da}*  preached  in  the  Cathedral  there,  and  told 
the  people  in  his  sermon  that  he  had  come  to  die  among  them, 
and  that  it  was  likely  he  would  be  murdered.  Pie  had  no  fear, 
however  —  or,  if  he  had  any,  he  had  much  more  obstinacy  — 
for  he,  then  and  there,  excommunicated  three  of  his  enemies, 
of  whom  Ranulf  de  Broc  the  ireful  knight  was  one. 

As  men  in  general  had  no  fancy  for  being  cursed,  in  their 
sitting  and  walking,  and  gaping  and  sneezing,  and  all  the  rest 
of  it,  it  was  very  natural  in  the  persons  so  freely  excommu- 
nicated to  complain  to  the  King.  It  was  equally  natural  in  the 
King,  who  had  hoped  that  this  troublesome  opponent  was  at 
last  quieted,  to  fall  into  a  might}'  rage  when  he  heard  of  these 
new  affronts  ;  and,  on  the  Archbishop  of  York  telling  him  that 
he  never  could  hope  for  rest  whilst  Thomas  a  Becket  lived,  to 
cry  out  hastily  before  his  court,  "  Have  I  no  one  here  who  will 
deliver  me  from  this  man  ?  "  There  were  four  knights  present, 
who,  hearing  the  King's  words,  looked  at  one  another,  and 
went  out. 

The  names  of  these  knights  were  REGINALD  FITZURSE, 
WILLIAM  TRACY,  HUGH  DE  MORVILLE,  and  RICHARD  BRITO  ; 
three  of  whom  had  been  in  the  train  of  Thomas  a  Becket  in 
the  old  days  of  his  splendor.  They  rode  away  on  horseback, 
in  a  very  secret  manner,  and  on  the  third  da}*  after  Christmas 
Da}*  arrived  at  Saltwood  House,  not  far  from  Canterbury, 
which  belonged  to  the  family  of  Ranulf  de  Broc.  They 
quietly  collected  some  followers  here,  in  case  they  should 
need  any ;  and  proceeding  to  Canterbury,  suddenly  appeared 
(the  four  knights  and  twelve  men)  before  the  Archbishop,  in 
his  own  house,  at  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  They  neither 
bowed  nor  spoke,  but  sat  down  on  the  floor  in  silence,  staring 
at  the  Archbishop. 

Thomas  a  Becket  said,  at  length,  "  What  do  you  want  ?" 

"  We  want,"  said  Reginald  Fitzurse,  "the  excommunica- 
tion taken  from  the  Bishops,  and  you  to  answer  for  your 
offences  to  the  King." 

Thomas  a  Becket  defiantly  replied,  that  the  power  of  the 


HENRY  THE   SECOND.  99 

clergy  was  above  the  power  of  the  King.  That  it  was  not 
for  such  men  as  they  were,  to  threaten  him.  That  if  he  were 
threatened  by  all  the  swords  in  England,  he  would  never 
yield. 

"  Then  we  will  do  more  than  threaten  !  "  said  the  knights. 
And  they  went  out  with  the  twelve  men,  and  put  on  their 
armor,  and  drew  their  shining  swords,  and  came  back. 

His  servants,  in  the  meantime,  had  shut  up  and  barred  the 
great  gate  of  the  palace.  At  first,  the  knights  tried  to  shat- 
ter it  with  their  battle-axes  ;  but,  being  shown  a  window  by 
which  they  could  enter,  they  let  the  gate  alone,  and  climbed 
in  that  way.  While  they  were  battering  at  the  door,  the 
attendants  of  Thomas  k  Becket  had  implored  him  to  take 
refuge  in  the  Cathedral ;  in  which,  as  a  sanctuary  or  sacred 
place,  they  thought  the  knights  would  dare  to  do  no  violent 
deed.  He  told  them,  again  and  again,  that  he  would  not 
stir.  Hearing  the  distant  voices  of  the  monks  singing  the 
evening  service,  however,  he  said  it  was  now  his  duty  to 
attend,  and  therefore,  and  for  no  other  reason,  he  would  go. 

There  was  a  near  way  between  his  Palace  and  the  Cathe- 
dral, by  some  beautiful  old  cloisters  which  you  may  yet  see. 
He  went  into  the  Cathedral,  without  any  hurry,  and  having 
the  Cross  carried  before  him  as  usual.  When  he  was  safely 
there,  his  servants  would  have  fastened  the  door,  but  he  said 
No !  it  was  the  house  of  God  and  not  a  fortress. 

As  he  spoke,  the  shadow  of  Reginald  Fitzurse  appeared  in 
the  Cathedral  doorway,  darkening  the  little  light  there  was 
outside,  on  the  dark  winter  evening.  This  knight  said,  in  a 
strong  voice,  "Follow  me,  lo}'al  servants  of  the  King!" 
The  rattle  of  the  armor  of  the  other  knights  echoed  through 
the  Cathedral,  as  they  came  clashing  in. 

It  was  so  dark,  in  the  lofty  aisles  and  among  the  stately 
pillars  of  the  church,  and  there  were  so  man}T  hiding-places 
in  the  crypt  below  and  in  the  narrow  passages  above,  that 
Thomas  a  Becket  might  even  at  that  pass  have  ^aved  him- 
self if  he  would.  But  he  would  not.  He  told  the  monks 


100  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

resolutely  that  he  would  not.  And  though  they  all  dispersed 
and  left  him  there  with  no  other  follower  than  EDWAKD 
GRYME,  his  faithful  cross-bearer,  he  was  as  firm  then  as  ever 
he  had  been  in  his  life. 

The  knights  came  on,  through  the  darkness,  making  a  ter- 
rible noise  with  their  armed  tread  upon  the  stone  pavement 
of  the  church.  "Where  is  the  traitor  ?"  they  cried  out. 
He  made  no  answer.  But  when  they  cried,  "Where  is  the 
Archbishop?"  he  said  proudly,  "  I  am  here  !  "  and  came  out 
of  the  shade  and  stood  before  them. 

The  knights  had  no  desire  to  kill  him,  if  they  could  rid  the 
King  and  themselves  of  him  by  any  other  means.  They  told 
him  he  must  either  fly  or  go  with  them.  He  said  he  would 
do  neither ;  and  he  threw  William  Tracy  off  with  such  force 
when  he  took  hold  of  his  sleeve,  that  Tracy  reeled  again. 
By  his  reproaches  and  his  steadiness,  he  so  incensed  them, 
and  exasperated  their  fierce  humor,  that  Reginald  Fitzurse, 
whom  he  called  by  an  ill  name,  said,  "  Then  die  !  "  and  struck 
at  his  head.  But  the  faithful  Edward  Gryme  put  out  his 
arm,  and  there  received  the  main  force  of  the  blow,  so  that 
it  onh'  made  his  master  bleed.  Another  voice  from  among 
the  knights  again  called  to  Thomas  a  Becket  to  fly ;  but,  with 
his  blood  running  down  his  face,  and  his  hands  clasped,  and 
his  head  bent,  he  commended  himself  to  God,  and  stood 
firm.  Then  they  cruelly  killed  him  close  to  the  altar  of  St. 
Bennet ;  and  his  body  fell  upon  the  pavement,  which  was 
dirtied  with  his  blood  and  brains. 

It  is  an  awful  thing  to  think  of  the  murdered  mortal,  who 
had  so  showered  his  curses  about,  lying,  all  disfigured,  in  the 
church,  where  a  few  lamps  here  and  there  were  but  red  specks 
on  a  pall  of  darkness ;  and  to  think  of  the  guilt}7  knights 
riding  away  on  horseback,  looking  over  their  shoulders  at 
the  dim  Cathedral,  and  remembering  what  they  had  left 
inside. 


HENRY  THE  SECOND.  101 


PART  THE  SECOND. 

WHEN  the  King  heard  how  Thomas  a  Becket  had  lost  his 
life  in  Canterbury  Cathedral,  through  the  ferocity  of  the  four 
Knights,  he  was  filled  with  dismay.  Some  have  supposed 
that  when  the  Kkig  spoke  those  hast}^  words,  "Have  1  no 
one  here  who  will  deliver  me  from  this  man?"  he  wished, 
and  meant  a  Becket  to  be  slain.  But  few  tilings  are  more 
unlikely  ;  for,  besides  that  the  King  was  not  naturally  cruel 
(though  very  passionate) ,  he  was  wise  and  must  have  known 
full  well  what  any  stupid  man  in  his  dominions  must  have 
known,  namely,  that  such  a  murder  would  rouse  the  Pope 
and  the  whole  Church  against  him. 

He  sent  respectful  messages  to  the  Pope,  to  represent  his 
innocence  (except  in  having  uttered  the  hasty  words)  ; 
and  he  swore  solemnly  and  publicly  to  his  innocence,  and 
contrived'  in  time  to  make  his  peace.  As  to  the  four  guilty 
Knights,  who  fled  into  Yorkshire,  and  never  again  dared  to 
show  themselves  at  Court,  the  Pope  excommunicated  them  ; 
and  they  lived  miserably  for  some  time,  shunned  by  all  their 
countrymen.  At  last  they  went  humbly  to  Jerusalem  as  a 
penance,  and  there  died  and  were  buried. 

It  happened,  fortunately  for  the  pacifying  of  the  Pope,  that 
an  opportunity  arose  very  soon  after  the  murder  of  a  Becket, 
for  the  King  to  declare  his  power  in  Ireland  —  which  was  an 
acceptable  undertaking  to  the  Pope,  as  the  Irish,  who  had 
been  converted  to  Christianity  by  one  Patricius  (otherwise 
St.  Patrick)  long  ago,  before  any  Pope  existed,  considered 
that  the  Pope  had  nothing  at  all  to  do  with  them,  or  they 
with  the  Pope,  and  accordingly  refused  to  pay  him  Peter's 
Pence,  or  that  tax  of  a  penny  a  house  which  I  have  elsewhere 
mentioned.  The  King's  opportunity  arose  in  this  way. 

The  Irish  were,  at  that  time,  as  barbarous  a  people  as  you 
can  well  imagine.  They  were  continually  quarrelling  and 
fighting,  cutting  one  another's  throats,  slicing  one  another's 


102  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

noses,  burning  one  another's  houses,  carrying  away  one 
another's  wives,  and  committing  all  sorts  of  violence.  The 
country  was  divided  into  five  kingdoms  —  DESMOND,  TIIOMOND, 
CONNAUGIIT,  ULSTER,  and  LEINSTER  —  each  governed  by  a 
separate  King,  of  whom  one  claimed  to  be  the  chief  of  the 
rest.  Now,  one  of  these  Kings,  named  DERMOND  MAC 
MURROUGH  (a  wild  kind  of  name,  spelt  in  more  than  one  wild 
kind  of  way) ,  had  carried  off  the  wife  of  a  friend  of  his,  and 
concealed  her  on  an  island  in  a  bog.  The  friend  resenting 
this  (though  it  was  quite  the  custom  of  the  country) ,  com- 
plained to  the  chief  King,  and,  with  the  chief  King's  help, 
drove  Dermond  Mac  Murrough  out  of  his  dominions.  Der- 
mond  came  over  to  England  for  revenge  ;  and  offered  to  hold 
his  realm  as  a  vassal  of  King  Henry,  if  King  Heniy  would 
help  him  to  regain  it.  The  King  consented  to  these  terms  ; 
but  onby  assisted  him,  then,  with  what  were  called  Letters 
Patent,  authorizing  any  English  subjects  who  were  so  dis- 
posed, to  enter  into  his  service,  and  aid  his  cause. 

There  was,  at  Bristol,  a  certain  EARL  RICHARD  DE  CLARE, 
called  STRONGBOW  ;  of  no  very  good  character ;  needy  and 
desperate,  and  ready  for  anj'thing  that  offered  him  a  chance 
of  improving  his  fortunes.  There  were,  in  South  Wales,  two 
other  broken  knights  of  the  same  good-for-nothing  sort, 
called  ROBERT  FITZ-STEPHEN,  and  MAURICE  FITZ-GERALD. 
These  three,  each  with  a  small  band  of  followers,  took  up 
Dermond's  cause ;  and  it  was  agreed  that  if  it  proved  suc- 
cessful, Strongbow  should  marry  Dermond's  daughter  EVA, 
and  be  declared  his  heir. 

The  trained  English  followers  of  these  knights  were  so 
superior  in  all  the  discipline  of  battle  to  the  Irish,  that  they 
beat  them  against  immense  superiority  of  numbers.  In  one 
fight,  early  in  the  war,  the}'  cut  off  three  hundred  heads,  and 
laid  them  before  Mac  Murrough  ;  who  turned  them  every  one 
up  with  his  hands,  rejoicing,  and,  coming  to  one  which  was 
the  head  of  a  man  whom  he  had  much  disliked,  he  grasped  it 
by  the  hair  and  ears,  and  tore  off  the  nose  and  lips  with  his 


HENRY  THE   SECOND.  103 

teeth.  You  may  judge  from  this,  what  kind  of  a  gentleman 
an  Irish  King  in  those  times  was.  The  captives,  all  through 
this  war,  were  horribly  treated  ;  the  victorious  party  making 
noth'.ng  of  breaking  their  limbs,  and  casting  them  into  the 
sea  from  the  tops  of  high  rocks.  It  was  in  the  midst  of  the 
miseries  and  cruelties  attendant  on  the  taking  of  Waterford, 
where  the  dead  lay  piled  in  the  streets,  and  the  filth}'  gutters 
ran  with  blood,  that  Strongbow  married  Eva.  An  odious 
marriage-company  those  mounds  of  corpses  must  have  made, 
I  think,  and  one  quite  worthy  of  the  young  lady's  father. 

He  died,  after  Waterford  and  Dublin  had  been  taken,  and 
various  successes  achieved ;  and  Strongbow  became  King  of 
Leinster.  Now  came  King  Henry's  opportunity.  To  re- 
strain the  growing  power  of  Strongbow,  he  himself  repaired 
to  Dublin,  as  Strongbow's  Ro}"al  Master,  and  deprived  him 
of  his  kingdom,  but  confirmed  him  in  the  enjoyment  of  great 
possessions.  The  King,  then,  holding  state  in  Dublin,  re- 
ceived the  homage  of  nearly  all  the  Irish  Kings  and  Chiefs, 
and  so  came  home  again  with  a  great  addition  to  his  reputa- 
tion as  Lord  of  Ireland,  and  with  a  new  claim  on  the  favor  of 
the  Pope.  And  now,  their  reconciliation  was  completed  — 
more  easily  and  mildly  by  the  Pope  than  the  King  might  have 
expected,  I  think. 

At  this  period  of  his  reign,  when  his  troubles  seemed  so 
few  and  his  prospects  so  bright,  those  domestic  miseries 
began  which  gradually  made  the  King  the  most  unhappy  of 
men,  reduced  his  great  spirit,  wore  away  his  health,  and 
broke  his  heart. 

He  had  four  sons.  HENRY,  now  aged  eighteen  —  his  secret 
crowning  of  whom  had  given  such  offence  to  Thomas  a  Becket ; 
RICHARD,  aged  sixteen ;  GEOFFREY,  fifteen ;  and  JOHN,  his 
favorite,  a  young  boy  whom  the  courtiers  named  LACKLAND, 
because  he  had  no  inheritance,  but  to  whom  the  King  meant 
to  give  the  Lordship  of  Ireland.  All  these  misguided  bo}'S, 
in  their  turn,  were  unnatural  sons  to  him,  and  unnatural 
brothers  to  each  other.  Prince  Henry,  stimulated  by  the 


104  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

French  King,  and  by  his  bad  mother,  Queen  Eleanor,  began 
the  undntiful  history. 

First,  he  demanded  that  his  young  wife,  MARGARET,  the 
French  King's  daughter,  should  be  crowned  as  well  as  he. 
His  father,  the  King,  consented,  and  it  was  done.  It  was  no 
sooner  done,  than  he  demanded  to  have  a  part  of  his  father's 
dominions,  during  his  father's  life.  This  being  refused,  he 
made  off  from  his  father  in  the  night,  with  his  bad  heart  full 
of  bitterness,  and  took  refuge  at  the  French  King's  Court. 
Within  a  day  or  two,  his  brothers  Richard  and  Geoffrey  fol- 
lowed. Their  mother  tried  to  join  them  —  escaping  in  man's 
clothes  —  but  she  was  seized  by  King  Henry's  men,  and  im- 
mured in  prison,  where  she  lay,  deservedly,  for  sixteen  3'ears. 
Every  day,  however,  some  grasping  English  nobleman,  to 
whom  the  King's  protection  of  his  people  from  their  avarice 
and  oppression  had  given  offence,  deserted  him  and  joined 
the  Princes.  Every  day  he  heard  some  fresh  intelligence  of 
the  Princes  levying  armies  against  him ;  of  Prince  Henry's 
wearing  a  crown  before  his  own  ambassadors  at  the  French 
Court,  and  being  called  the  Junior  King  of  England ;  of  all 
the  Princes  swearing  never  to  make  peace  with  him,  their 
father,  without  the  consent  and  approval  of  the  Barons  of 
France.  But,  with  his  fortitude  and  energy  unshaken,  King 
Henry  met  the  shock  of  these  disasters  with  a  resolved  and 
cheerful  face.  He  called  upon  all  Royal  fathers  who  had 
sons,  to  help  him,  for  his  cause  was  theirs  ;  he  hired,  out  of 
his  riches,  twenty  thousand  men  to  fight  the  false  French 
King,  who  stirred  his  own  blood  against  him  ;  and  he  carried 
on  the  war  with  such  vigor,  that  Louis  soon  proposed  a  con- 
ference to  treat  for  peace. 

The  conference  was  held  beneath  an  old 'wide-spread ing 
green  elm-tree,  upon  a  plain  in  France.  It  led  to  nothing. 
The  war  recommenced.  Prince  Richard  began  his  fighting 
career,  by  leading  an  army  against  his  father ;  but  his  father 
beat  him  and  his  army  back  ;  and  thousands  of  his  men  would 
have  rued  the  day  in  which  they  fought  in  such  a  wicked 


HENRY  THE   SECOND.  105 

cause,  had  not  the  King  received  news  of  an  invasion  of  Eng- 
land by  the  Scots,  and  promptly  come  home  through  a  great 
storm  to  repress  it.  And  whether  he  really  began  to  fear 
that  he  suffered  these  troubles  because  a  Becket  had  been  mur- 
dered ;  or  whether  he  wished  to  rise  in  the  favor  of  the  Pope, 
who  had  now  declared  a  Becket  to  be  a  saint,  or  in  the  favor 
of  his  own  people,  of  whom  many  believed  that  even  a  Beck- 
et's  senseless  tomb  could  work  miracles,  I  don't  know :  but 
the  King  no  sooner  landed  in  England  than  he  went  straight 
to  Canterbury  ;  and  when  he  came  within  sight  of  the  distant 
Cathedral,  he  dismounted  from  his  horse,  took  off  his  shoes, 
and  walked  with  bare  and  bleeding  feet  to  a  Becket's  grave. 
There,  he  lay  down  on  the  ground,  lamenting,  in  the  presence 
of  many  people ;  and  by-and-by  he  went  into  the  Chapter 
House,  and,  removing  his  clothes  from  his  back  and  shoulders, 
submitted  himself  to  be  beaten  with  knotted  cords  (not  beaten 
very  hard,  I  dare  say  though)  by  eighty  Priests,  one  after 
another.  It  chanced  that  on  the  very  day  when  the  King 
made  this  curious  exhibition  of  himself,  a  complete  victory 
was  obtained  over  the  Scots  ;  which  very  much  delighted  the 
Priests,  who  said  that  it  was  won  because  of  his  great  exam- 
ple of  repentance.  For  the  Priests  in  general  had  found  out, 
since  a  Becket's  death,  that  they  admired  him  of  all  things  — 
though  they  had  hated  him  very  cordially  when  he  was  alive. 
The  Earl  of  Flanders,  who  was  at  the  head  of  the  base 
conspiracy  of  the  King's  undutiful  sons  and  their  foreign 
friends,  took  the  opportunity  of  the  King  being  thus  employed 
at  home,  to  lay  siege  to  Rouen,  the  capital  of  Normandy. 
But  the  King,  who  was  extraordinarily  quick  and  active  in 
all  his  movements,  was  at  Rouen,  too,  before  it  was  supposed 
possible  that  he  could  have  left  England ;  and  there  he  so 
defeated  the  said  Earl  of  Flanders,  that  the  conspirators  pro- 
posed peace,  and  his  bad  sons  Henr}T  and  Geoffrey  submitted. 
Richard  resisted  for  six  weeks ;  but,  being  beaten  out  of 
castle  after  castle,  he  at  last  submitted  too,  and  his  father 
forgave  him. 


106  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

To  forgive  these  unworthy  princes  was  only  to  afford  them 
breathing-time  for  new  faithlessness.  They  were  so  false, 
disloyal,  and  dishonorable,  that  they  were  no  more  to  be 
trusted  than  common  thieves.  In  the  veiy  next  year,  Prince 
Henry  rebelled  again,  and  was  again  forgiven.  In  eight 
years  more,  Prince  Richard  rebelled  against  his  elder  brother ; 
and  Prince  Geoffrey  infamously  said  that  the  brothers  could 
never  agree  well  together,  unless  they  were  united  against 
their  father.  In  the  very  next  year  after  their  reconciliation 
by  the  King,  Prince  Henry  again  rebelled  against  his  father ; 
and  again  submitted,  swearing  to  be  true ;  and  was  again 
forgiven  ;  and  again  rebelled  with  Geoffrey. 

But  the  end  of  this  perfidious  Prince  was  come.  He  fell 
sick  at  a  French  town  ;  and  his  conscience  terribly  reproach- 
ing him  with  his  baseness,  he  sent  messengers  to  the  King 
his  father,  imploring  him  to  come  and  see  him,  and  to  forgive 
him  for  the  last  time  on  his  bed  of  death.  The  generous 
King,  who  had  a  royal  and  forgiving  mind  towards  his  chil- 
dren alwa}'s,  would  have  gone ;  but  this  Prince  had  been  so 
unnatural,  that  the  noblemen  about  the  King  suspected  treach- 
er}*,  and  represented  to  him  that  he  could  not  safely  trust  his 
life  with  such  a  traitor,  though  his  own  eldest  son.  Therefore 
the  King  sent  him  a  ring  from  off  his  finger  as  a  token  of  for- 
giveness ;  and  when  the  Prince  had  kissed  it,  with  much  grief 
and  many  tears,  and  had  confessed  to  those  around  him  how 
bad,  and  wicked,  and  undutiful  a  son  he  had  been ;  he  said 
to  the  attendant  Priests  :  "  O,  tie  a  rope  about  my  body,  and 
draw  me  out  of  bed,  and  lay  me  down  upon  a  bed  of  ashes, 
that  I  may  die  with  prayers  to  God  in  a  repentant  manner ! " 
And  so  he  died,  at  twenty-seven  years  old. 

Three  }-ears  afterwards,  Prince  Geoffre}',  being  unhorsed 
at  a  tournament,  had  his  brains  trampled  out  by  a  crowd  of 
horses  passing  over  him.  So,  there  only  remained  Prince 
Richard,  and  Prince  John  —  who  had  grown  to  be  a  young 
man  now,  and  had  solemnly  sworn  to  be  faithful  to  his  father. 
Richard  soon  rebelled  again,  encouraged  by  his  friend  the 


HENRY  THE   SECOND.  107 

French  King,  PHILIP  THE  SECOND  (son  of  Louis,  who  was 
dead)  ;  and  soon  submitted  and  was  again  forgiven,  swearing 
on  the  New  Testament  never  to  rebel  again  ;  and  in  another 
year  or  so,  rebelled  again ;  and,  in  the  presence  of  his  father, 
knelt  down  on  his  knee  before  the  King  of  France  ;  and  did 
the  French  King  homage  ;  and  declared  that  with  his  aid  he 
would  possess  himself,  by  force,  of  all  his  father's  French 
dominions. 

And  yet  this  Richard  called  himself  a  soldier  of  Our  Sav- 
iour !  And  yet  this  Richard  wore  the  Cross,  which  the  Kings 
of  France  and  England  had  both  taken,  in  the  previous  3'ear, 
at  a  brotherly  meeting  underneath  the  old  wide-spreading 
elm-tree  on  the  plain,  when  they  had  sworn  (like  him)  to 
devote  themselves  to  a  new  Crusade,  for  the  love  and  honor 
of  the  Truth  ! 

Sick  at  heart,  wearied  out  by  the  falsehood  of  his  sons, 
and  almost  read}-  to  lie  down  and  die,  the  unhappy  King  who 
had  so  long  stood  firm,  began  to  fail.  But  the  Pope,  to  his 
honor,  supported  him ;  and  obliged  the  French  King  and 
Richard,  though  successful  in  fight,  to  treat  for  peace.  Rich- 
ard wanted  to  be  crowned  King  of  England,  and  pretended 
that  he  wanted  to  be  married  (which  he  really  did  not)  to 
the  French  King's  sister,  his  promised  wife,  whom  King 
Henry  detained  in  England.  King  Henry  wanted,  on  the 
other  hand,  that  the  French  King's  sister  should  be  married 
to  his  favorite  son,  John :  the  only  one  of  his  sons  (he  said) 
who  had  never  rebelled  against  him.  At  last  King  Henry, 
deserted  by  his  nobles  one  by  one,  distressed,  exhausted, 
broken-hearted,  consented  to  establish  peace. 

One  final  heav}r  sorrow  was  reserved  for  him,  even  }ret. 
When  they  brought  him  the  proposed  treaty  of  peace,  in 
writing,  as  he  lay  very  ill  in  bed,  they  brought  him  also  the 
list  of  the  deserters  from  their  allegiance,  whom  he  was  re- 
quired to  pardon.  The  first  name  upon  this  list  was  John, 
his  favorite  son,  in  whom  he  had  trusted  to  the  last. 

"  O  John!  child  of  my  heart!"  exclaimed  the  King,  in  a 


108  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

great  agony  of  mind.  "  O  John,  whom  I  have  loved  the 
best !  O  John,  for  whom  I  have  contended  through  these 
many  troubles  !  Have  you  betrayed  me  too  !  "  And  then 
he  lay  down  with  a  heavy  groan,  and  said,  "Now  let  the 
world  go  as  it  will.  I  care  for  nothing  more  !  " 

After  a  time,  he  told  his  attendants  to  take  him  to  the 
French  town  of  Chinon  —  a  town  he  had  been  fond  of,  during 
many  }'ears.  But  he  was  fond  of  no  place  now ;  it  was  too 
true  that  he  could  care  for  nothing  more  upon  this  earth.  He 
wildly  cursed  the  hour  when  he  was  born,  and  cursed  the  chil- 
dren whom  he  left  behind  him  ;  and  expired. 

As,  one  hundred  years  before,  the  servile  followers  of  the 
Court  had  abandoned  the  Conqueror  in  the  hour  of  his  death, 
so  they  now  abandoned  his  descendant.  The  very  bod}*  was 
stripped,  in  the  plunder  of  the  Royal  chamber ;  and  it  was 
not  easy  to  find  the  means  of  carrying  it  for  burial  to  the 
abbey  church  of  Fontevraud. 

Richard  was  said  in  after  years,  by  way  of  flattery,  to  have 
the  heart  of  a  Lion.  It  would  have  been  far  better,  I  think, 
to  have  had  the  heart  of  a  Man.  His  heart,  whatever  it  was, 
had  cause  to  beat  remorsefully  within  his  breast,  when  he 
came  —  as  he  did  —  into  the  solemn  abbe}",  and  looked  on  his 
dead  father's  uncovered  face.  His  heart,  whatever  it  was, 
had  been  a  black  and  perjured  heart,  in  all  its  dealings  with 
the  deceased  King,  and  more  deficient  in  a  single  touch  of 
tenderness  than  any  wild  beast's  in  the  forest. 

There  is  a  pretty  stor}-  told  of  this  Reign,  called  the  story 
of  FAIR  ROSAMOND.  It  relates  how  the  King  doted  on  Fair 
Rosamond,  who  was  the  loveliest  girl  in  all  the  world ;  and 
how  he  had  a  beautiful  Bower  built  for  her  in  a  Park  at 
Woodstock  ;  and  how  it  was  erected  in  a  labyrinth,  and  could 
only  be  found  by  a  clue  of  silk.  How  the  bad  Queen  Eleanor, 
becoming  jealous  of  Fair  Rosamond,  found  out  the  secret  of 
the  clue,  and  one  da}r,  appeared  before  her,  with  a  dagger 
and  a  cup  of  poison,  and  left  her  to  the  choice  between  those 
deaths.  How  Fair  Rosamond,  after  shedding  many  piteous 


HENRY  THE   SECOND.  109 

tears  and  offering  many  useless  prayers  to  the  cruel  Queen, 
took  the  poison,  and  fell  dead  in  the  midst  of  the  beau- 
tiful bower,  while  the  unconscious  birds  sang  gaily  all  around 
her. 

Now,  there  was  a  fair  Rosamond,  and  she  was  (I  dare  saj") 
the  loveliest  girl  in  all  the  world,  and  the  King  was  certainly 
very  fond  of  her,  and  the  bad  Queen  Eleanor  was  certainly 
made  jealous.  But  I  am  afraid  —  I  say  afraid,  because  I  like 
the  story  so  much  —  that  there  was  no  bower,  no  labyrinth,  no 
silken  clue,  no  dagger,  no  poison.  I  am  afraid  fair  Rosamond 
retired  to  a  nunnery  near  Oxford,  and  died  there,  peaceably  ; 
her  sister-nuns  hanging  a  silken  drapery  over  her  tomb,  and 
often  dressing  it  with  flowers,  in  remembrance  of  the  j'outh 
and  beauty  that  had  enchanted  the  King  when  he  too  was 
young,  and  when  his  life  lay  fair  before  him. 

It  was  dark  and  ended  now ;  faded  and  gone.  Henry 
Plantagenet  lay  quiet  in  the  abbey  church  of  Fontevraud,  in 
the  fifty-seventh  year  of  his  age  —  never  to  be  completed  — 
after  governing  England  well,  for  nearly  thirty-five  years. 


110  A  CHILD'S   HISTOEY  OF  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  XIH. 

ENGLAND   UNDER   RICHARD   THE    FIRST,    CALLED    THE 
LION-HEART. 

IN  the  year  of  our  Lord  one  thousand  one  hundred  and 
eighty-nine,  Richard  of  the  Lion  Heart  succeeded  to  the 
throne  of  King  Henry  the  Second,  whose  paternal  heart  he 
had  done  so  much  to  break.  He  had  been,  as  we  have  seen, 
a  rebel  from  his  bo3*hood  ;  but,  the  moment  he  became  a  king 
against  whom  others  might  rebel,  he  found  out  that  rebellion 
was  a  great  wickedness.  In  the  heat  of  this  pious  discovery, 
he  punished  all  the  leading  people  who  had  befriended  him 
against  his  father.  He  could  scarcely  have  done  anything 
that  would  have  been  a  better  instance  of  his  real  nature,  or  a 
better  warning  to  fawners  and  parasites  not  to  trust  in  lion- 
hearted  princes. 

He  likewise  put  his  late  father's  treasurer  in  chains,  and 
locked  him  up  in  a  dungeon  from  which  he  was  not  set  free 
until  he  had  relinquished,  not  only  all  the  Crown  treasure,  but 
all  his  own  money  too.  So,  Richard  certainty  got  the  Lion's 
share  of  the  wealth  of  this  wretched  treasurer,  whether  he  had 
a  Lion's  heart  or  not. 

He  was  crowned  King  of  England,  with  great  pomp,  at 
"Westminster ;  walking  to  the  Cathedral  under  a  silken  canopy 
stretched  on  the  tops  of  four  lances,  each  carried  by  a  great 
lord.  On  the  day  of  his  coronation,  a  dreadful  murdering  of 
the  Jews  took  place,  which  seems  to  have  given  great  delight 
to  numbers  of  savage  persons  calling  themselves  Christians. 
The  King  had  issued  a  proclamation  forbidding  the  Jews 
(who  were  generally  hated,  though  they  were  the  most  useful 


EICHAKD   THE   FIRST.  Ill 

merchants  in  England)  to  appear  at  the  ceremony ;  but  as 
they  had  assembled  in  London  from  all  parts,  bringing  pres- 
ents to  show  their  respect  for  the  new  Sovereign,  some  of  them 
ventured  down  to  Westminster  Hall  with  their  gifts  ;  which 
were  very  readily  accepted.  It  is  supposed,  now,  that  some 
noisy  fellow  in  the  crowd,  pretending  to  be  a  very  delicate 
Christian,  set  up  a  howl  at  this,  and  struck  a  Jew  who  was 
tiying  to  get  in  at  the  Hall  door  with  his  present.  A  riot 
arose.  The  Jews  who  had  got  into  the  Hall,  were  driven 
forth  ;  and  some  of  the  rabble  cried  out  that  the  new  King  had 
commanded  the  unbelieving  race  to  be  put  to  death.  There- 
upon the  crowd  rushed  through  the  narrow  streets  of  the  city, 
slaughtering  all  the  Jews  they  met ;  and  when  they  could  find 
no  more  out  of  doors  (on  account  of  their  having  fled  to  their 
houses,  and  fastened  themselves  in),  they  ran  madly  about, 
breaking  open  all  the  houses  where  the  Jews  lived,  rushing  in 
and  stabbing  or  spearing  them,  sometimes  even  flinging  old 
people  and  children  out  of  windows  into  blazing  fires  they  had 
lighted  up  below.  This-  great  cruelty  lasted  four-and-twenty 
hours,  and  only  three  men  were  punished  for  it.  Even  they 
forfeited  their  lives  not  for  murdering  and  robbing  the  Jews, 
but  for  burning  the  houses  of  some  Christians. 

King  Richard,  who  was  a  strong  restless  burly  man,  with 
one  idea  alwa}Ts  in  his  head,  and  that  the  very  troublesome 
idea  of  breaking  the  heads  of  other  men,  was  mightily  impa- 
tient to  go  on  a  Crusade  to  the  Holy  Land,  with  a  great 
army.  As  great  armies  could  not  be  raised  to  go  even  to 
the  Holy  Land,  without  a  great  deal  of  money,  he  sold  the 
Crown  domains  and  even  the  high  offices  of  State ;  reck- 
lessly appointing  noblemen  to  rule  over  his  English  subjects, 
not  because  they  were  fit  to  govern,  but  because  they  could 
pay  high  for  the  privilege.  In  this  way,  and  by  selling  par- 
dons at  a  dear  rate,  and  by  varieties  of  avarice  and  oppres- 
sion, lie  scraped  together  a  large  treasure.  He  then  appointed 
two  Bishops  to  take  care  of  his  kingdom  in  his  absence,  and 
gave  great  powers  and  possessions  to  his  brother  John,  to 


112  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

secure  his  friendship.  John  would  rather  have  been  made 
Regent  of  England ;  but  he  was  a  shy  man,  and  friendly  to 
the  expedition ;  saying  to  himself,  no  doubt,  "  The  more 
fighting,  the  more  chance  of  my  brother  being  killed ;  and 
when  he  is  killed,  then  I  become  King  John  !  " 

Before  the  newly  levied  army  departed  from  England,  the 
recruits  and  the  general  populace  distinguished  themselves  by 
astonishing  cruelties  on  the  unfortunate  Jews  :  whom  in  many 
large  towns,  they  murdered  by  hundreds  in  the  most  horrible 
manner. 

At  York,  a  large  body  of  Jews  took  refuge  in  the  Castle,  in 
the  absence  of  its  Governor,  after  the  wives  and  children  of 
man}-  of  them  had  been  slain  before  their  eyes.  Presently 
came  the  Governor,  and  demanded  admission.  ' '  How  can 
we  give  it  thee,  O  Governor ! "  said  the  Jews  upon  the  walls, 
"  when,  if  we  open  the  gate  by  so  much  as  the  width  of  a  foot, 
the  roaring  crowd  behind  thee  will  press  in  and  kill  us  ?  " 

Upon  this,  the  unjust  Governor  became  angry,  and  told  the 
people  that  he  approved  of  their  killing  those  Jews ;  and  a 
mischievous  maniac  of  a  friar,  dressed  all  in  white,  put  him- 
self at  the  head  of  the  assault,  aud  they  assaulted  the  Castle 
for  three  days. 

Then  said  JOCEN,  the  head-Jew  (who  was  a  Rabbi  or  Priest) , 
to  the  rest,  "  Brethren,  there  is  no  hope  for  us  with  the 
Christians  who  are  hammering  at  the  gates  and  walls,  and 
who  must  soon  break  in.  As  we  and  our  wives  and  chil- 
dren must  die,  either  by  Christian  hands,  or  b}-  our  own, 
let  it  be  by  our  own.  Let  us  destroy  by  fire  what  jewels  and 
other  treasure  we  have  here,  then  fire  the  castle,  and  then 
perish ! " 

A  few  could  not  resolve  to  do  this,  but  the  greater  part 
complied.  The}'  made  a  blazing  heap  of  all  their  valuables, 
and  when  those  were  consumed,  set  the  castle  in  flames. 
While  the  flames  roared  and  crackled  around  them,  and  shoot- 
ing up  into  the  sky,  turned  it  blood-red,  Jocen  cut  the  throat 
of  his  beloved  wife,  and  stabbed  himself.  All  the  others  who 


RICHARD   THE  FIRST.  113 

had  wives  or  children  did  the  like  dreadful  deed.  When 
the  populace  broke  in,  the}7  found  (except  the  trembling  few, 
cowering  in  corners,  whom  they  soon  killed)  only  heaps  of 
greasy  cinders,  with  here  and  there  something  like  part  of  the 
blackened  trunk  of  a  burnt  tree,  but  which  had  lately  been  a 
human  creature,  formed  by  the  beneficent  hand  of  the  Creator 
as  the}7  were. 

After  this  bad  beginning,  Richard  and  his  troops  went  on, 
in  no  very  good  manner,  with  the  Hoi}'  Crusade.  It  was 
undertaken  jointly  by  the  King  of  England  and  his  old  friend 
Philip  of  France.  They  commenced  the  business  by  review- 
ing their  forces,  to  the  number  of  one  hundred  thousand  men. 
Afterwards,  they  severally  embarked  their  troops  for  Messina, 
in  Sicily,  which  was  appointed  as  the  next  place  of  meeting. 

King  Richard's  sister  had  married  the  King  of  this  place, 
but  he  was  dead :  and  his  uncle  TANCRED  had  usurped  the 
crown,  cast  the  Roj-al  Widow  into  prison,  and  possessed 
himself  of  her  estates.  Richard  fiercel}7  demanded  his  sister's 
release,  the  restoration  of  her  lands,  and  (according  to  the 
Royal  custom  of  the  Island)  that  she  should  have  a  golden 
chair,  a  golden  table,  four-and-twenty  silver  cups,  and  four- 
and-twenty  silver  dishes.  As  he  was  too  powerful  to  be  suc- 
cessfully resisted,  Tancred  yielded  to  his  demands  ;  and  then 
the  French  King  grew  jealous,  and  complained  that  the  Eng- 
lish King  wanted  to  be  absolute  in  the  Island  of  Messina  and 
eveiywhere  else.  Richard,  however,  cared  little  or  nothing 
for  this  complaint ;  and  in  consideration  of  a  present  of 
twenty  thousand  pieces  of  gold,  promised  his  pretty  little 
nephew  ARTHUR,  then  a  child  of  two  years  old,  in  marriage 
to  Tancred's  daughter.  We  shall  hear  again  of  pretty  little 
Arthur  by-and-by. 

This  Sicilian  affair  arranged  without  anybody's  brains  be- 
ing knocked  out  (which  must  have  rather  disappointed  him), 
King  Richard  took  his  sister  away,  and  also  a  fair  lady  named 
BERENGARIA,  with  whom  he  had  fallen  in  love  in  France,  and 
whom  his  mother,  Queen  Eleanor  (so  long  in  prison,  you  re- 

8 


114  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

member,  but  released  by  Richard  on  his  coming  to  the  Throne) , 
had  brought  out  there  to  be  his  wife ;  and  sailed  with  them 
for  C}"prus. 

He  soon  had  the  pleasure  of  fighting  the  King  of  the  Island 
of  Cyprus,  for  allowing  his  subjects  to  pillage  some  of  the 
English  troops  who  were  shipwrecked  on  the  shore ;  and 
easily  conquering  this  poor  monarch,  he  seized  his  only 
daughter,  to  be  a  companion  to  the  lady  Berengaria,  and  put 
the  King  himself  into  silver  fetters.  He  then  sailed  away 
again  with  his  mother,  sister,  wife,  and  the  captive  princess ; 
and  soon  arrived  before  the  town  of  Acre,  which  the  French 
King  with  his  fleet  was  besieging  from  the  sea.  But  the 
French  King  was  in  no  triumphant  condition,  for  his  army 
had  been  thinned  by  the  swords  of  the  Saracens,  and  wasted 
by  the  plague  ;  and  SALADIN,  the  brave  Sultan  of  the  Turks, 
at  the  head  of  a  numerous  army,  was  at  that  time  gallantly 
defending  the  place  from  the  hills  that  rise  above  it. 

Wherever  the  united  arnvy  of  Crusaders  went,  they  agreed 
in  few  points  except  in  gaming,  drinking,  and  quarrelling,  in 
a  most  unholy  manner ;  in  debauching  the  people  among 
whom  they  tarried,  whether  they  were  friends  or  .foes ;  and 
in  carrying  disturbance  and  ruin  into  quiet  places.  The 
French  King  was  jealous  of  the  English  King,  and  the  Eng- 
lish King  was  jealous  of  the  French  King,  and  the  disorderly 
and  violent  soldiers  of  the  two  nations  were  jealous  of  one 
another  ;  consequently,  the  two  kings  could  not  at  first  agree, 
even  upon  a  joint  assault  on  Acre  ;  but  when  thej-  did  make 
up  their  quarrel  for  that  purpose,  the  Saracens  promised  to 
3'ield  the  town,  to  give  up  to  the  Christians  the  wood  of  the 
Holy  Cross,  to  set  at  liberty  all  their  Christian  captives,  and 
to  pay  two  hundred  thousand  pieces  of  gold.  All  this  was 
to  be  done  within  forty  days ;  but,  not  being  done,  King 
Richard  ordered  some  three  thousand  Saracen  prisoners  to  be 
brought  out  in  the  front  of  his  camp,  and  there,  in  full  view 
of  their  own  countrymen,  to  be  butchered. 

The  French  King  had  no  part  in  this  crime  ;  for  he  was  by 


RICHARD  THE  FIRST.  115 

that  time  travelling  homeward  with  the  greater  part  of  his 
men  ;  being  offended  by  the  overbearing  conduct  of  the  Eng- 
lish King ;  being  anxious  to  look  after  his  own  dominions  ; 
and  being  ill,  besides,  from  the  unwholesome  air  of  that  hot 
and  sandy  country.  King  Richard  carried  on  the  war  with- 
out him  ;  and  remained  in  the  East,  meeting  with  a  variety 
of  adventures,  nearly  a  year  and  a  half.  Every  night  when 
his  army  was  on  the  march,  and  came  to  a  halt,  the  heralds 
cried  out  three  times,  to  remind  all  the  soldiers  of  the  cause 
in  which  they  were  engaged,  "  Save  the  Holy  Sepulchre!  " 
and  then  all  the  soldiers  knelt  and  said  "  Amen  !  "  March- 
ing or  encamping,  the  army  had  continually  to  strive  with 
the  hot  air  of  the  glaring  desert,  or  with  the  Saracen  soldiers 
animated  and  directed  by  the  brave  Saladin,  or  with  both 
together.  Sickness  and  death,  battle  and  wounds,  were 
always  among  them  ;  but  through  every  difficulty  King  Rich- 
ard fought  like  a  giant,  and  worked  like  a  common  laborer. 
Long  and  long  after  he  was  quiet  in  his  grave,  his  terrible 
battle-axe,  with  twenty  English  pounds  of  English  steel  in 
its  mighty  head,  was  a  legend  among  the  Saracens ;  and 
when  all  the  Saracen  and  Christian  hosts  had  been  dust 
for  many  a  year,  if  a  Saracen  horse  started  at  any  object 
by  the  wayside,  his  rider  would  exclaim,  "What  dost 
thou  fear,  Fool?  Dost  thou  think  King  Richard  is  be- 
hind it?" 

No  one  admired  this  King's  renown  for  bravery  more  than 
Saladin  himself,  who  was  a  generous  and  gallant  enemy. 
When  Richard  lay  ill  of  a  fever,  Saladin  sent  him  fresh  fruits 
from  Damascus,  and  snow  from  the  mountain-tops.  Courtly 
messages  and  compliments  were  frequently  exchanged  be- 
tween them  —  and  then  King  Richard  would  mount  his 
horse  and  kill  as  many  Saracens  as  he  could ;  and  Saladin 
would  mount  his,  and  kill  as  many  Christians  as  he  could. 
In  this  way  King  Richard  fought  to  his  heart's  content  at 
Arsoof  and  at  Jaffa  ;  and  finding  himself  with  nothing  excit- 
ing to  do  at  Ascalon,  except  to  rebuild,  for  his  own  defence, 


116  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

some  fortifications  there  which  the  Saracens  had  destroyed, 
he  kicked  his  ally  the  Duke  of  Austria,  for  being  too  proud 
to  work  at  them. 

The  army  at  last  came  within  sight  of  the  Holy  City  of 
Jerusalem  ;  but,  being  then  a  mere  nest  of  jealousy,  and 
quarrelling  and  fighting,  soon  retired,  and  agreed  with  the 
Saracens  upon  a  truce  for  three  years,  three  months,  three 
days,  and  three  hours.  Then  the  English  Christians,  pro- 
tected b}r  the  noble  Saladin  from  Saracen  revenge,  visited 
Our  Saviour's  tomb ;  and  then  King  Richard  embarked  with 
a  small  force  at  Acre  to  return  home. 

But  he  was  shipwrecked  in  the  Adriatic  Sea,  and  was  fain 
to  pass  through  Germany,  under  an  assumed  name.  Now, 
there  were  many  people  in  Germany  who  had  served  in  the 
Holy  Land  under  that  proud  Duke  of  Austria  who  had  been 
kicked ;  and  some  of  them,  easily  recognizing  a  man  so 
remarkable  as  King  Richard,  carried  their  intelligence  to  the 
kicked  Duke,  who  straightway  took  him  prisoner  at  a  little 
inn  near  Vienna. 

The  Duke's  master  the  Emperor  of  Germany,  and  the 
King  of  France,  were  equally  delighted  to  have  so  trouble- 
some a  monarch  in  safe  keeping.  Friendships  which  are 
founded  on  a  partnership  in  doing  wrong,  are  never  true ; 
and  the  King  of  France  was  now  quite  as  heartily  King 
Richard's  foe,  as  he  had  ever  been  his  friend  in  his  unnatural 
conduct  to  his  father.  He  monstrously  pretended  that  King 
Richard  had  designed  to  poison  him  in  the  East ;  he  charged 
him  with  having  murdered,  there,  a  man  whom  he  had  in 
truth  befriended ;  he  bribed  the  Emperor  of  Germany  to 
keep  him  close  prisoner ;  and,  finally,  through  the  plotting 
of  these  two  princes,  Richard  was  brought  before  the  Ger- 
man legislature,  charged  with  the  foregoing  crimes,  and 
man}"  others.  But  he  defended  himself  so  well,  that  many 
of  the  assembly  were  moved  to  tears  by  his  eloquence  and 
earnestness.  It  was  decided  that  he  should  be  treated,  dur- 
ing the  rest  of  his  captivity,  in  a  manner  more  becoming  his 


RICHARD  THE   FIRST.  117 

dignity  than  he  had  been,  and  that  he  should  be  set  free  on 
the  payment  of  a  heavy  ransom.  This  ransom  the  English 
people  willingly  raised.  When  Queen  Eleanor  took  it  over 
to  German}-,  it  was  at  first  evaded  and  refused.  But  she 
appealed  to  the  honor  of  all  the  princes  of  the  German  Em- 
pire in  behalf  of  her  son,  and  appealed  so  well  that  it  was 
accepted,  and  the  King  released.  Thereupon,  the  King  of 
France  wrote  to  Prince  John,  —  "Take  care  of  thyself. 
The  devil  is  unchained  !  " 

Prince  John  had  reason  to  fear  his  brother,  for  he  had 
been  a  traitor  to  him  in  his  captivity.  He  had  secretly 
joined  the  French  King ;  had  vowed  to  the  English  nobles 
and  people  that  his  brother  was  dead ;  and  had  vainly  tried 
to  seize  the  crown.  He  was  now  in  France,  at  a  place  called 
Evreux.  Being  the  meanest  and  basest  of  men,  he  contrived 
a  mean  and  base  expedient  for  making  himself  acceptable 
to  his  brother.  He  invited  the  French  officers  of  the  garri- 
son in  that  town  to  dinner,  murdered  them  all,  and  then 
took  the  fortress.  With  this  recommendation  to  the  good 
will  of  a  lion-hearted  monarch,  he  hastened  to  King  Richard, 
fell  on  his  knees  before  him,  and  obtained  the  intercession  of 
Queen  Eleanor.  "I  forgive  him,"  said  the  King,  "and  I 
hope  I  may  forget  the  injury  he  has  done  me,  as  easily  as  I 
know  he  will  forget  my  pardon." 

While  King  Richard  was  in  Sicily,  there  had  been  trouble 
in  his  dominions  at  home :  one  of  the  bishops  whom  he  had 
left  in  charge  thereof,  arresting  the  other;  and  making,  in 
his  pride  and  ambition,  as  great  a  show  as  if  he  were  King 
himself.  But  the  King  hearing  of  it  at  Messina,  and  ap- 
pointing a  new  Regency,  this  LONGCHAMP  (for  that  was  his 
name)  had  fled  to  France  in  a  woman's  dress,  and  had  there 
been  encouraged  and  supported  by  the  French  King.  With 
all  these  causes  of  offence  against  Philip  in  his  mind,  King 
Richard  had  no  sooner  been  welcomed  home  by  his  enthusi- 
astic subjects  with  great  display  and  splendor,  and  had  no 
sooner  been  crowned  afresh  at  Winchester,  than  he  resolved 


118  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

to  show  the  French  King  that  the  Devil  was  unchained  in- 
deed, and  made  war  against  him  with  great  fury. 

There  was  fresh  trouble  at  home  about  this  time,  arising 
out  of  the  discontents  of  the  poor  people,  who  complained 
that  they  were  far  more  heavily  taxed  than  the  rich,  and 
who  found  a  spirited  champion  in  WILLIAM  FITZ-()SBERT 
called  LONGBEARD.  He  became  the  leader  of  a  secret  societ}7, 
comprising  fifty  thousand  men ;  he  was  seized  by  surprise  ; 
he  stabbed  the  citizen  who  first  laid  hands  upon  him ;  and 
retreated,  bravely  fighting,  to  a  church,  which  he  maintained 
four  days,  until  he  was  dislodged  by  fire  and  run  through 
the  body  as  he  came  out.  He  was  not  killed  though  ;  for  he 
was  dragged,  half  dead,  at  the  tail  of  a  horse  to  Smithfield, 
and  there  hanged.  Death  was  long  a  favorite  remedy  for 
silencing  the  people's  advocates  ;  but  as  we  go  on  with  this 
history,  I  fancy  we  shall  find  them  difficult  to  make  an  end 
of,  for  all  that. 

The  French  war,  de^ed  occasionally  by  a  truce,  was  still 
in  progress  when  a  certain  Lord  named  VIDOMAR,  Viscount 
of  Limoges,  chanced  to  find  in  his  ground  a  treasure  of  an- 
cient coins.  As  the  King's  vassal,  he  sent  the  King  half  of 
it ;  but  the  King  claimed  the  whole.  The  lord  refused  to 
yield  the  whole.  The  King  besieged  the  lord  in  his  castle, 
swore  that  he  would  take  the  castle  by  storm,  and  hang  every 
man  of  its  defenders  on  the  battlements. 

There  was  a  strange  old  song  in  that  part  of  the  country, 
to  the  effect  that  in  Limoges  an  arrow  would  be  made  by 
which  King  Richard  would  die.  It  may  be  that  BERTRAND 
DE  GOURDON,  a  young  man  who  was  one  of  the  defenders  of 
the  castle,  had  often  sung  it  or  heard  it  sung  of  a  winter 
night,  and  remembered  it  when  he  saw,  from  his  post  upon 
the  ramparts,  the  King  attended  only  by  his  chief  officer 
riding  below  the  walls  sunning  the  place.  He  drew  an 
arrow  to  the  head,  took  stead j'  aim,  said  between  his  teeth, 
"Now  I  pray  God  speed  thee  well,  arrow!"  discharged  it, 
and  struck  the  King  in  the  left  shoulder. 


RICHARD   THE   FIRST.  119 

Although  the  wound  was  not  at  first  considered  dangerous, 
it  was  severe  enough  to  cause  the  King  to  retire  to  his  tent, 
and  direct  the  assault  to  be  made  without  him.  The  castle 
was  taken ;  and  every  man  of  its  defenders  was  hanged, 
as  the  King  had  sworn  all  should  be,  except  Bertrand  de 
Gourdon,  who  was  reserved  until  the  royal  pleasure  respect- 
ing him  should  be  known. 

By  that  time  unskilful  treatment  had  made  the  wound  mor- 
tal, and  the  King  knew  that  he  was  dying.  He  directed  Ber- 
trand to  be  brought  into  his  tent.  The  young  man  was 
brought  there  heavily  chained.  King  Richard  looked  at  him 
steadily.  He  looked,  as  steadily,  at  the  King. 

"Knave!"  said  King  Richard.  "What  have  I  done  to 
thee  that  thou  shouldst  take  my  life  ?  " 

"What  hast  thou  done  to  me!  "  replied  the  young  man. 
"  With  thine  own  hands  thou  hast  killed  my  father  and  my 
two  brothers.  Myself  thou  wouldest  have  hanged.  Let  me 
die  now,  by  any  torture  that  thou  wilt.  My  comfort  is,  that 
no  torture  can  save  Thee.  Thou  too  must  die  ;  and,  through 
me,  the  world  is  quit  of  thee  !  " 

Again  the  King  looked  at  the  young  man  steadily.  Again 
the  young  man  looked  steadily  at  him.  Perhaps  some  re- 
membrance of  his  generous  enemy,  Saladin,  who  was  not  a 
Christian,  came  into  the  mind  of  the  dying  King. 

"  Youth  !  "  he  said,  "  I  forgive  thee.     Go  unhurt !  " 

Then,  turning  to  the  chief  officer  who  had  been  riding  in 
his  company  when  he  received  the  wound,  King  Richard 
said : 

"  Take  off  his  chains,  give  him  a  hundred  shillings,  and 
let  him  depart." 

He  sunk  down  on  his  couch,  and  a  dark  mist  seemed  in 
his  weakened  eyes  to  fill  the  tent  wherein  he  had  so  often 
rested,  and  he  died.  His  age  was  forty-two  ;  he  had  reigned 
ten  years.  His  last  command  was  not  obe}^ed  ;  for  the  chief 
officer  flayed  Bertrand  de  Gourdon  alive,  and  hanged  him. 

There  is  an  old  tune  yet  known  —  a  sorrowful  air  will  some- 


120  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF   ENGLAND. 

times  outlive  many  generations  of  strong  men,  and  even  last 
longer  than  battle-axes,  with  twenty  pounds  of  steel  in  the 
head  —  by  which  this  King  is  said  to  have  been  discovered  in 
his  captivity.  BLONDEL,  a  favorite  Minstrel  of  King  Richard, 
as  the  story  relates,  faithfully  seeking  his  Royal  master,  went 
singing  it  outside  the  gloomy  walls  of  many  foreign  fortresses 
and  prisons ;  until  at  last  he  heard  it  echoed  from  within  a 
dungeon,  and  knew  the  voice,  and  cried  out  in  ecstas}',  "  O 
Richard,  O  my  King !  "  You  may  believe  it,  if  you  like  ;  it 
would  be  easy  to  believe  worse  things.  Richard  was  himself 
a  Minstrel  and  a  Poet.  If  he  had  not  been  a  Prince  too,  he 
might  have  been  a  better  man  perhaps,  and  might  have  gone 
out  of  the  world  with  less  bloodshed  and  waste  of  life  to 
answer  for. 


KING  JOHN.  121 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

ENGLAND   UNDER   KING   JOHN,    CALLED    LACKLAND. 

AT  two-and-thirty  years  of  age,  JOHN  became  King  of 
England.  His  pretty  little  nephew  ARTHUR  had  the  best 
claim  to  the  throne  ;  but  John  seized  the  treasure,  and  made 
fine  promises  to  the  nobilit}7,  and  got  himself  crowned  at  West- 
minster within  a  few  weeks  after  his  brother  Richard's  death. 
I  doubt  whether  the  crown  could  possibly  have  been  put  upon 
the  head  of  a  meaner  coward,  or  a  more  detestable  villain,  if 
England  had  been  searched  from  end  to  end  to  find  him  out. 

The  French  King,  Philip,  refused  to  acknowledge  the  right 
of  John  to  his  new  dignit}^  and  declared  in  favor  of  Arthur. 
You  must  not  suppose  that  he  had  any  generosity  of  feeling 
for  the  fatherless  boy  ;  it  merely  suited  his  ambitious  schemes 
to  oppose  the  King  of  England.  So  John  and  the  French 
King  went  to  war  about  Arthur. 

He  was  a  handsome  boy,  at  that  time  only  twelve  years 
old.  He  was  not  born  when  his  father,  Geoffrey,  had  his 
brains  trampled  out  at  the  tournament ;  and,  besides  the  mis- 
fortune of  never  having  known  a  father's  guidance  and  protec- 
tion, he  had  the  additional  misfortune  to  have  a  foolish  mother 
(CONSTANCE  by  name),  lately  married  to  her  third  husband. 
She  took  Arthur,  upon  John's  accession,  to  the  French  King, 
who  pretended  to  be  very  much  his  friend,  and  who  made 
him  a  Knight,  and  promised  him  his  daughter  in  marriage ; 
but,  who  cared  so  little  about  him  in  realit}',  that  finding  it 
his  interest  to  make  peace  with  King  John  for  a  time,  he  did 
so  without  the  least  consideration  for  the  poor  little  Prince, 
and  heartlessly  sacrificed  all  his  interests. 


122  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

Young  Arthur,  for  two  years  afterwards,  lived  quietly ;  and 
in  the  course  of  that  time  his  mother  died.  But,  the  French 
King  then  finding  it  his  interest  to  quarrel  with  King  John 
again,  again  made  Arthur  his  pretence,  and  invited  the  orphan 
boy  to  court.  "You  know  your  rights,  Prince,"  said  the 
French  King,  "and  you  would  like  to  be  a  King.  Is  it  not 
so?  "  "  Truly,"  said  Prince  Arthur,  "  I  should  greatly  like  to 
be  a  King!"  "Then,"  said  Philip,  "  you  shall  have  two 
hundred  gentlemen  who  are  Knights  of  mine,  and  with  them 
you  shall  go  to  win  back  the  provinces  belonging  to  you,  of 
which  your  uncle,  the  usurping  King  of  England,  has  taken 
possession.  I  myself,  meanwhile,  will  head  a  force  against 
him  in  Normandy."  Poor  Arthur  was  so  flattered  and  so 
grateful  that  he  signed  a  treaty  with  the  crafty  French  King, 
agreeing  to  consider  him  his  superior  Lord,  and  that  the 
French  King  should  keep  for  himself  whatever  he  could  take 
from  King  John. 

Now  King  John  was  so  bad  in  all  ways,  and  King  Philip  was 
so  perfidious,  that  Arthur,  between  the  two,  might  as  well 
have  been  a  lamb  between  a  fox  and  a  wolf.  But,  being  so 
young,  he  was  ardent  and  flushed  with  hope ;  and,  when  the 
people  of  Brittany  (which  was  his  inheritance)  sent  him  five 
hundred  more  knights  and  five  thousand  foot  soldiers,  he  be- 
lieved his  fortune  was  made.  The  people  of  Brittany  had 
been  fond  of  him  from  his  birth,  and  had  requested  that  he 
might  be  called  Arthur,  in  remembrance  of  that  dimh'-famous 
English  Arthur,  of  whom  I  told  you  early  in  this  book,  whom 
the}'  believed  to  have  been  the  brave  friend  and  companion 
of  an  old  King  of  their  own.  The}'  had  tales  among  them 
about  a  prophet  called  MERLIN  (of  the  same  old  time) ,  who 
had  foretold  that  their  own  King  should  be  restored  to  them 
after  hundreds  of  years  ;  and  they  believed  that  the  prophecy 
would  be  fulfilled  in  Arthur ;  that  the  time  would  come  when 
he  would  rule  them  with  a  crown  of  Brittany  upon  his  head  ; 
and  when  neither  King  of  France  nor  King  of  England  would 
have  an}r  power  over  them.  When  Arthur  found  himself 


KING  JOHN.  123 

riding  in  a  glittering  suit  of  armor  on  a  richly  caparisoned 
horse,  at  the  head  of  his  train  of  knights  and  soldiers,  he 
began  to  believe  this  too,  and  to  consider  old  Merlin  a  very 
superior  prophet. 

He  did  not  know  —  how  could  he,  being  so  innocent  and 
inexperienced?  —  that  his  little  arnry  was  a  mere  nothing 
against  the  power  of  the  King  of  England.  The  French  King 
knew  it ;  but  the  poor  boy's  fate  was  little  to  him,  so  that  the 
King  of  England  was  worried  and  distressed.  Therefore, 
King  Philip  went  his  way  into  Normandy,  and  Prince  Arthur 
went  his  way  towards  Mirebeau,  a  French  town  near  Poic- 
tiers,  both  very  well  pleased. 

Prince  Arthur  went  to  attack  the  town  of  Mirebeau,  be- 
cause his  grandmother  Eleanor,  who  has  so  often  made  her 
appearance  in  this  history  (and  who  had  alwa3"s  been  his 
mother's  enemy),  was  living  there,  and  because  his  Knights 
said,  "  Prince,  if  }"ou  can  take  her  prisoner,  you  will  be  able 
to  bring  the  King  your  uncle  to  terms  !  "  But  she  was  not 
to  be  easily  taken.  She  was  old  enough  by  this  time  —  eighty 
—  but  she  was  as  full  of  stratagem  as  she  was  full  of  years 
and  wickedness.  Receiving  intelligence  of  young  Arthur's 
approach,  she  shut  herself  up  in  a  high  tower,  and  encouraged 
her  soldiers  to  defend  it  like  men.  Prince  Arthur  with  his 
little  army  besieged  the  high  tower.  King  John,  hearing 
how  matters  stood,  came  up  to  the  rescue,  with  his  army. 
So  here  was  a  strange  family-party !  The  boy- Prince  be- 
sieging his  grandmother,  and  his  uncle  besieging  him  ! 

This  position  of  affairs  did  not  last  long.  One  summer 
night  King  John,  by  treachery,  got  his  men  into  the  town,  sur- 
prised Prince  Arthur's  force,  took  two  hundred  of  his  knights, 
and  seized  the  Prince  himself  in  his  bed.  The  Knights  were 
put  in  heavy  irons,  and  driven  away  in  open  carts  drawn 
by  bullocks,  to  various  dungeons  where  they  were  most 
inhumanly  treated,  and  where  some  of  them  were  starved  to 
death.  Prince  Arthur  was  sent  to  the  castle  of  Falaise. 

One  day,  while  he  was  in  prison  at  that  castle,  mournfully 


124  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

thinking  it  strange  that  one  so  young  should  be  in  so  much 
trouble,  and  looking  out  of  the  small  window  in  the  deep  dark 
wall,  at  the  summer  sky  and  the  birds,  the  door  was  softly 
opened,  and  he  saw  his  uncle  the  King  standing  in  the 
shadow  of  the  archwa}',  looking  very  grim. 

"Arthur,"  said  the  King,  with  his  wicked  eyes  more  on 
the  stone  floor  than  on  his  nephew,  "  will  you  not  trust  to  the 
gentleness,  the  friendship,  and  the  truthfulness  of  your  loving 
uncle?" 

"  I  will  tell  my  loving  uncle  that,"  replied  the  boy,  "  when 
he  does  me  right.  Let  him  restore  to  me  my  kingdom  of 
England,  and  then  come  to  me  and  ask  the  question." 

The  King  looked  at  him  and  went  out.  "Keep  that  boy 
close  prisoner,"  said  he  to  the  warden  of  the  castle. 

Then,  the  King  took  secret  counsel  with  the  worst  of  his 
nobles  how  the  Prince  was  to  be  got  rid  of.  Some  said,  "  Put 
out  his  eyes  and  keep  him  in  prison,  as  Robert  of  Normandy 
was  kept."  Others  said,  "  Have  him  stabbed."  Others, 
"  Have  him  hanged."  Others,  "  Have  him  poisoned." 

King  John,  feeling  that  in  any  case,  whatever  was  done 
afterwards,  it  would  be  a  satisfaction  to  his  mind  to  have 
those  handsome  eyes  burnt  out  that  had  looked  at  him  so 
proudly  while  his  own  royal  eyes  were  blinking  at  the  stone 
floor,  sent  certain  ruffians  to  Falaise  to  blind  the  boy  with 
red-hot  irons.  But  Arthur  so  pathetically  entreated  them, 
and  shed  such  piteous  tears,  and  so  appealed  to  HUBERT  DE 
BOURG  (or  BURGH),  the  warden  of  the  castle,  who  had  a  love 
for  him,  and  was  an  honorable  tender  man,  that  Hubert  could 
not  bear  it.  To  his  eternal  honor  he  prevented  the  torture 
from  being  performed,  and,  at  his  own  risk,  sent  the  savages 
away. 

The  chafed  and  disappointed  King  bethought  himself  of 
the  stabbing  suggestion  next,  and  with  his  shuffling  manner 
and  his  cruel  face,  proposed  it  to  one  William  de  Bra}7.  "  I 
am  a  gentleman  and  not  an  executioner,"  said  William  de 
Bray,  and  left  the  presence  with  disdain. 


KING  JOHN.  125 

But  it  was  not  difficult  for  a  King  to  hire  a  murderer  in 
those  days.  King  John  found  one  for  his  money,  and  sent 
him  down  to  the  castle  of  Falaise.  "  On  what  errand  dost 
thou  come?"  said  Hubert  to  this  fellow.  "To  despatch 
young  Arthur,"  he  returned.  "Go  back  to  him  who  sent 
thee,"  answered  Hubert,  "  and  say  that  I  will  do  it !  " 

King  John  very  well  knowing  that  Hubert  would  never  do 
it,  but  that  he  courageously  sent  this  reply  to  save  the  Prince 
or  gain  time,  despatched  messengers  to  convey  the  young 
prisoner  to  the  castle  of  Rouen. 

Arthur  was  soon  forced  from  the  good  Hubert  —  of  whom 
he  had  never  stood  in  greater  need  than  then —  carried  away 
b}'  night,  and  lodged  in  his  new  prison :  where,  through  his 
grated  window,  he  could  hear  the  deep  waters  of  the  river 
Seine,  rippling  against  the  stone  wall  below. 

One  dark  night,  as  he  lay  sleeping,  dreaming  perhaps  of 
rescue  by  those  unfortunate  gentlemen  who  were  obscurely 
suffering  and  dying  in  his  cause,  he  was  roused,  and  bidden 
by  his  jailer  to  come  down  the  staircase  to  the  foot  of  the 
tower.  He  hurriedly  dressed  himself  and  obeyed.  When 
they  came  to  the  bottom  of  the  winding  stairs,  and  the  night 
air  from  the  river  blew  upon  their  faces,  the  jailer  trod  upon 
his  torch  and  put  it  out.  Then  Arthur,  in  the  darkness,  was 
hurriedly  drawn  into  a  solitary  boat.  And  in  that  boat,  he 
found  his  uncle  and  one  other  man. 

He  knelt  to  them,  and  prayed  them  not  to  murder  him. 
Deaf  to  his  entreaties,  they  stabbed  him  and  sunk  his  body 
in  the  river  with  heavy  stones.  When  the  spring  morning 
broke,  the  tower-door  was  closed,  the  boat  was  gone,  the 
river  sparkled  on  its  way,  and  never  more  was  any  trace  of 
the  poor  boy  beheld  by  mortal  eyes. 

The  news  of  this  atrocious  murder  being  spread  in  England, 
awakened  a  hatred  of  the  King  (already  odious  for  his  many 
vices,  and  for  his  having  stolen  away  and  married  a  noble 
lady  while  his  own  wife  was  living)  that  never  slept  again 
through  his  whole  reign.  In  Brittany,  the  indignation  was 


126  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

intense.  Arthur's  own  sister  ELEANOR  was  in  the  power  of 
John  and  shut  up  in  a  convent  at  Bristol,  but  his  half-sister 
ALICE  was  in  Brittany.  The  people  chose  her,  and  the  mur- 
dered prince's  father-in-law,  the  last  husband  of  Constance, 
to  represent  them  ;  and  carried  their  fiery  complaints  to  King 
Philip.  King  Philip  summoned  King  John  (as  the  holder  of 
territory  in  France)  to  come  before  him  and  defend  himself. 
King  John  refusing  to  appear,  King  Philip  declared  him  false, 
perjured,  and  guilty  ;  and  again  made  war.  In  a  little  time,  by 
conquering  the  greater  part  of  his  French  territory,  King 
Philip  deprived  him  of  one-third  of  his  dominions.  And, 
through  all  the  fighting  that  took  place,  King  John  was 
always  found,  either  to  be  eating  and  drinking,  like  a  glut- 
tonous fool,  when  the  danger  was  at  a  distance,  or  to  be  run- 
ning away,  like  a  beaten  cur,  when  it  was  near. 

You  might  suppose  that  when  he  was  losing  his  dominions 
at  this  rate,  and  when  his  own  nobles  cared  so  little  for  him 
or  his  cause  that  they  plainly  refused  to  follow  his  banner  out 
of  England,  he  had  enemies  enough.  But  he  made  another 
enemy  of  the  Pope,  which  he  did  in  this  wa}T. 

The  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  d}-ing,  and  the  junior  monks 
of  that  place  wishing  to  get  the  start  of  the  senior  monks  in 
the  appointment  of  his  successor,  met  together  at  midnight, 
secretly  elected  a  certain  REGINALD,  and  sent  him  off  to  Rome 
to  get  the  Pope's  approval.  The  senior  monks  and  the  King 
soon  finding  this  out,  and  being  very  angry  about  it,  the  jun- 
ior monks  gave  way,  and  all  the  monks  together  elected  the 
Bishop  of  Norwich,  who  was  the  King's  favorite.  The  Pope, 
hearing  the  whole  story,  declared  that  neither  election  would 
do  for  him,  and  that  he  elected  STEPHEN  LANGTON.  The 
monks  submitting  to  the  Pope,  the  King  turned  them  all  out 
bodily,  and  banished  them  as  traitors.  The  Pope  sent  three 
bishops  to  the  King,  to  threaten  him  with  an  Interdict.  The 
King  told  the  Bishops  that  if  any  Interdict  were  laid  upon  his 
kingdom,  he  would  tear  out  the  eyes  and  cut  off  the  noses  of 
all  the  monks  he  could  lay  hold  of,  and  send  them  over  to 


•     KING  JOHN.  127 

Rome  in  that  undecorated  state  as  a  present  for  their  master. 
The  bishops,  nevertheless,  soon  published  the  Interdict,  and 
fled. 

After  it  had  lasted  a  year,  the  Pope  proceeded  to  his  next 
step  ;  which  was  Excommunication.  King  John  was  declared 
excommunicated,  with  all  the  usual  ceremonies.  The  King 
was  so  incensed  at  this,  and  was  made  so  desperate  by  the 
disaffection  of  his  Barons  and  the  hatred  of  his  people,  that 
it  is  said  he  even  privately  sent  ambassadors  to  the  Turks  in 
Spain,  offering  to  renounce  his  religion  and  hold  his  kingdom 
of  them  if  they  would  help  him.  It  is  related  that  the  am- 
bassadors were  admitted  to  the  presence  of  the  Turkish  Emir 
through  long  lines  of  Moorish  guards,  and  that  they  found 
the  Emir  with  his  eyes  seriously  fixed  on  the  pages  of  a  large 
book,  from  which  he  never  once  looked  up.  That  they  gave 
him  a  letter  from  the  King  containing  his  proposals,  and  were 
gravely  dismissed.  That  presently  the  Emir  sent  for  one  of 
them,  and  conjured  him,  by  his  faith  in  his  religion,  to  say 
what  kind  of  man  the  King  of  England  truly  was  ?  That  the 
ambassador,  thus  pressed,  replied  that  the  King  of  England 
was  a  false  tyrant,  against  whom  his  own  subjects  would 
soon  rise.  And  that  this  was  quite  enough  for  the  Emir. 

Money  being,  in  his  position,  the  next  best  thing  to  men, 
King  John  spared  no  means  of  getting  it.  He  set  on  foot 
another  oppressing  and  torturing  of  the  unhappy  Jews  (which 
was  quite  in  his  way) ,  and  invented  a  new  punishment  for 
one  wealth}'  Jew  of  Bristol.  Until  such  time  as  that  Jew 
should  produce  a  certain  large  sum  of  money,  the  King  sen- 
tenced him  to  be  imprisoned,  and,  every  day,  to  have  one 
tooth  violently  wrenched  out  of  his  head  —  beginning  with 
the  double  teeth.  For  seven  days,  the  oppressed  man  bore 
the  daily  pain  and  lost  the  daily  tooth  ;  but,  on  the  eighth,  he 
paid  the  money.  With  the  treasure  raised  in  such  ways,  the 
King  made  an  expedition  into  Ireland,  where  some  English 
nobles  had  revolted.  It  was  one  of  the  very  few  places  from 
which  he  did  not  run  awav ;  because  no  resistance  was  shown. 


128  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

He  made  another  expedition  into  Wales  —  whence  he  did  run 
away  in  the  end  :  but  not  before  he  had  got  from  the  Welsh 
people,  as  hostages,  twenty-seven  young  men  of  the  best 
families  ;  every  one  of  whom  he  caused  to  be  slain  in  the  fol- 
lowing year. 

To  Interdict  and  Excommunication,  the  Pope  now  added 
his  last  sentence ;  Deposition.  He  proclaimed  John  no 
longer  King,  absolved  all  his  subjects  from  their  allegiance, 
and  sent  Stephen  Langton  and  others  to  the  King  of  France 
to  tell  him  that,  if  he  would  invade  England,  he  should  be 
forgiven  all  his  sins  —  at,  least,  should  be  forgiven  them  by 
the  Pope,  if  that  would  do. 

As  there  was  nothing  that  King  Philip  desired  more  than 
to  invade  England,  he  collected  a  great  army  at  Rouen,  and 
a  fleet  of  seventeen  hundred  ships  to  bring  them  over.  But 
the  English  people,  however  bitterly  they  hated  the  King, 
were  not  a  people  to  suffer  invasion  quietly.  They  flocked  to 
Dover,  where  the  English  standard  was,  in  such  great  num- 
bers to  enrol  themselves  as  defenders  of  their  native  land, 
that  there  were  not  provisions  for  them,  and  the  King  could 
only  select  and  retain  sixty  thousand.  But,  at  this  crisis,  the 
Pope,  who  had  his  own  reasons  for  objecting  to  either  King 
John  or  King  Philip  being  too  powerful,  interfered.  He  en- 
trusted a  legate,  whose  name  was  PANDOLF,  with  the  easy 
task  of  frightening  King  John.  He  sent  him  to  the  English 
Camp,  from  France,  to  terrify  him  with  exaggerations  of  King 
Philip's  power,  and  his  own  weakness  in  the  discontent  of  the 
English  Barons  and  people.  Pandolf  discharged  his  commis- 
sion so  well,  that  King  John,  in  a  wretched  panic,  consented 
to  acknowledge  Stephen  Langton ;  to  resign  his  kingdom  ' '  to 
God,  St.  Peter,  and  St.  Paul,"  —  which  meant  the  Pope ; 
and  to  hold  it,  ever  afterwards,  by  the  Pope's  leave,  on  pay- 
ment of  an  annual  sum  of  monej7.  To  this  shameful  contract 
he  publicly  bound  himself  in  the  church  of  the  Knights  Tem- 
plars at  Dover :  where  he  laid  at  the  legate's  feet  a  part  of 
the  tribute,  which  the  legate  haughtily  trampled  upon.  But 


KING  JOHN.  129 

they  do  say,  that  this  was  merely  a  genteel  flourish,  and  that 
he  was  afterwards  seen  to  pick  it  up  and  pocket  it. 

There  was  an  unfortunate  prophet  of  the  name  of  Peter, 
who  had  greatly  increased  King  John's  terrors  by  predicting 
that  he  would  be  unknighted  (which  the  King  supposed  to 
signify  that  he  would  die)  before  the  Feast  of  the  Ascension 
should  be  past.  That  was  the  day  after  this  humiliation. 
When  the  next  morning  came,  and  the  King,  who  had  been 
trembling  all  night,  found  himself  alive  and  safe,  he  ordered 
the  prophet  —  and  his  son  too  —  to  be  dragged  through  the 
streets  at  the  tails  of  horses,  and  then  hanged,  for  having 
frightened  him. 

As  King  John  had  now  submitted,  the  Pope,  to  King  Phil- 
ip's great  astonishment,  took  him  under  his  protection,  and 
informed  King  Philip  that  he  found  he  could  not  give  him 
leave  to  invade  England.  The  angry  Philip  resolved  to  do  it 
without  his  leave ;  but  he  gained  nothing  and  lost  much ;  for, 
the  English,  commanded  by  the  Earl  of  Salisbuiy,  went  over, 
in  five  hundred  ships,  to  the  French  coast,  before  the  French 
fleet  had  sailed  away  from  it,  and  utterly  defeated  the  whole. 

The  Pope 'then  took  off  his  three  sentences,  one  after 
another,  and  empowered  Stephen  Langton  publicly  to  receive 
King  John  into  the  favor  of  the  Church  again,  and  to  ask  him 
to  dinner.  The  King,  who  hated  Langton  with  all  his  might 
and  main  —  and  with  reason  too,  for  he  was  a  great  and  a 
good  man,  with  whom  such  a  King  could  have  no  sympathy 
—  pretended  to  cry  and  to  be  very  grateful.  There  was  a 
little  difficulty  about  settling  how  much  the  King  should  pay 
as  a  recompense  to  the  clergy  for  the  losses  he  had  caused 
them  ;  but,  the  end  of  it  was,  that  the  superior  clergy  got  a 
good  deal,  and  the  inferior  clergy  got  little  or  nothing  — 
which  has  also  happened  since  King  John's  time,  I  believe. 

When  all  these  matters  were  arranged,  the  King  in  his 
triumph  became  more  fierce,  and  false,  and  insolent  to  all 
around  him  than  he  had  ever  been.  An  alliance  of  sover- 
eigns against  King  Philip,  gave  him  an  opportunity  of  land- 

9 


130  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

ing  an  army  in  France ;  with  which  he  even  took  a  town  ! 
But,  on  the  French  King's  gaining  a  great  victory,  he  ran 
away,  of  course,  and  made  a  truce  for  five  years. 

And  now  the  time  approached  when  he  was  to  be  still  fur- 
ther humbled,  and  made  to  feel,  if  he  could  feel  anything, 
what  a  wretched  creature  he  was.  Of  all  men  in  the  world, 
Stephen  Langton  seemed  raised  up  by  Heaven  to  oppose  and 
subdue  him.  When  he  ruthlessly  burnt  and  destroyed  the 
property  of  his  own  subjects,  because  their  Lords,  the 
Barons,  would  not  serve  him  abroad,  Stephen  Langton  fear- 
lessly reproved  and  threatened  him.  When  he  swore  to 
restore  the  laws  of  King  Edward,  or  the  laws  of  King  Henry 
the  First,  Stephen  Langton  knew  his  falsehood,  and  pursued 
him  through  all  his  evasions.  When  the  Barons  met  at  the 
abbey  of  Saint  Edmund's-Buiy,  to  consider  their  wrongs  and 
the  King's  oppressions,  Stephen  Langton  roused  them  by 
his  fervid  words  to  demand  a  solemn  charter  of  rights  and 
liberties  from  their  perjured  master,  and  to  swear,  one  by  one 
on  the  High  Altar,  that  they  would  have  it,  or  would  wage 
war  against  him  to  the  death.  When  the  King  hid  himself 
in  London  from  the  Barons,  and  was  at  last  obliged  to  receive 
them,  they  told  him  roundly  they  would  not  believe  him 
unless  Stephen  Langton  became  a  surety  that  he  would  keep 
his  word.  When  he  took  the  Cross  to  invest  himself  with 
some  interest,  and  belong  to  something  that  was  received 
with  favor,  Stephen  Langton  was  still  immovable.  When  he 
appealed  to  the  Pope,  and  the  Pope  wrote  to  Stephen  Lang- 
ton  in  behalf  of  his  new  favorite,  Stephen  Langton  was  deaf, 
even  to  the  Pope  himself,  and  saw  before  him  nothing  but 
the  welfare  of  England  and  the  crimes  of  the  English  King. 

At  Easter-time,  the  Barons  assembled  at  Stamford,  in 
Lincolnshire,  in  proud  array,  and,  marching  near  to  Oxford 
where  the  King  was,  delivered  into  the  hands  of  Stephen 
Langton  and  two  others,  a  list  of  grievances.  "  And  these," 
they  said,  "  he  must  redress,  or  we  will  do  it  for  ourselves !  " 
When  Stephen  Langton  told  the  King  as  much,  and  read  the 


KING  JOHN.  131 

list  to  him,  he  went  half  mad  with  rage.  But  that  did  him 
no  more  good  than  his  afterwards  trying  to  pacify  the  Barons 
with  lies.  The}'  called  themselves  and  their  followers,  "  The 
army  of  God  and  the  Holy  Church."  Marching  through 
the  country,  with  the  people  thronging  to  them  eveiywhere 
(except  at  Northampton,  where  they  failed  in  an  attack  upon 
the  castle),  they  at  last  triumphantly  set  up  their  banner  in 
London  itself,  whither  the  whole  land,  tired  of  the  tyrant, 
seemed  to  flock  to  join  them.  Seven  knights  alone,  of  all 
the  knights  in  England,  remained  with  the  King ;  who,  re- 
duced to  this  strait,  at  last  sent  the  Earl  of  Pembroke  to  the 
Barons  to  say  that  he  approved  of  everything,  and  would 
meet  them  to  sign  their  charter  when  they  would.  "  Then," 
said  the  Barons,  "  let  the  day  be  the  fifteenth  of  June,  and 
the  place  Runny-Mead." 

On  Monday,  the  fifteenth  of  June,  one  thousand  two  hun- 
dred and  fourteen,  the  King  came  from  Windsor  Castle,  and 
the  Barons  came  from  the  town  of  Staines,  and  they  met 
on  Runny-Mead,  which  is  still  a  pleasant  meadow  by  the 
Thames,  where  rushes  grow  in  the  clear  water  of  the  winding 
river,  and  its  banks  are  green  with  grass  and  trees.  On  the 
side  of  the  Barons,  came  the  General  of  their  army,  ROBERT 
FiTZ-W  ALTER,  and  a  great  concourse  of  the  nobility  of  Eng- 
land. With  the  King,  came,  in  all,  some  four-and-twenty 
persons  of  any  note,  most  of  whom  despised  him,  and  were 
merely  his  advisers  in  form.  On  that  great  day,  and  in  that 
great  company,  the  King  signed  MAGNA  CHARTA  —  the  great 
charter  of  England  —  by  which  he  pledged  himself  to  main- 
tain the  Church  in  its  rights  ;  to  relieve  the  Barons  of  oppres- 
sive obligations  as  vassals  of  the  Crown  —  of  which  the 
Barons,  in  their  turn,  pledged  themselves  to  relieve  their 
vassals,  the  people ;  to  respect  the  liberties  of  London  and 
all  other  cities  and  boroughs ;  to  protect  foreign  merchants 
who  came  to  England  ;  to  imprison  no  man  without  a  fair 
trial ;  and  to  sell,  delay,  or  deny  justice  to  none.  As  the 
Barons  knew  his  falsehood  weh1,  they  further  required,  as 


132  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

their  securities,  that  he  should  send  out  of  his  kingdom  all  his 
foreign  troops  ;  that  for  two  months  they  should  hold  posses- 
sion of  the  City  of  London,  and  Stephen  Langton  of  the 
Tower;  and  that  five-and-twenty  of  their  body,  chosen  by 
themselves,  should  be  a  lawful  committee  to  watch  the  keep- 
ing of  the  charter,  and  to  make  war  upon  him  if  he  broke  it. 

All  this  he  was  obliged  to  yield.  He  signed  the  charter 
with  a  smile,  and,  if  he  could  have  looked  agreeable,  would 
have  done  so,  as  he  departed  from  the  splendid  assembly. 
When  he  got  home  to  Windsor  Castle,  he  was  quite  a  mad- 
man in  his  helpless  fury.  And  he  broke  the  charter  immedi- 
ately afterwards. 

He  sent  abroad  for  foreign  soldiers,  and  sent  to  the  Pope 
for  help,  and  plotted  to  take  London  by  surprise,  while  the 
Barons  should  be  holding  a  great  tournament  at  Stamford, 
which  they  had  agreed  to  hold  there  •  as  a  celebration  of  the 
charter.  The  Barons,  however,  found  him  out  and  put  it  off. 
Then,  when  the  Barons  desired  to  see  him  and  tax  him  with 
his  treachery,  he  made  numbers  of  appointments  with  them, 
and  kept  none,  and  shifted  from  place  to  place,  and  was  con- 
stantly sneaking  and  skulking  about.  At  last  he  appeared 
at  Dover,  to  join  his  foreign  soldiers,  of  whom  numbers  came 
into  his  pay ;  and  with  them  he  besieged  and  took  Rochester 
Castle,  which  was  occupied  by  knights  and  soldiers  of  the 
Barons.  He  would  have  hanged  them  every  one ;  but  the 
leader  of  the  foreign  soldiers,  fearful  of  what  the  English 
people  might  afterwards  do  to  him,  interfered  to  save  the 
knights  ;  therefore  the  King  was  fain  to  satisfy  his  vengeance 
with  the  death  of  all  the  common  men.  Then,  he  sent  the 
Earl  of  Salisbury,  with  one  portion  of  his  army,  to  ravage  the 
eastern  part  of  his  own  dominions,  while  he  carried  fire  and 
slaughter  into  the  northern  part ;  torturing,  plundering,  kill- 
ing, and  inflicting  every  possible  cruelty  upon  the  people ; 
and,  every  morning,  setting  a  worthy  example  to  his  men  by 
setting  fire,  with  his  own  monster-hands,  to  the  house  where 
he  had  slept  last  night.  Nor  was  this  all;  for  the  Pope, 


KING  JOHN.  133 

coming  to  the  aid  of  his  precious  friend,  laid  the  kingdom 
under  an  Interdict  again,  because  the  people  took  part  with 
the  Barons.  It  did  not  much  matter,  for  the  people  had 
grown  so  used  to  it  now,  that  they  had  begun  to  think  noth- 
ing about  it.  It  occurred  to  them  —  perhaps  to  Stephen 
Langton  too  —  that  they  could  keep  their  churches  open,  and 
ring  their  bells,  without  the  Pope's  permission  as  well  as 
with  it.  So,  they  tried  the  experiment  —  and  found  that  it 
succeeded  perfectly. 

It  being  now  impossible  to  bear  the  country,  as  a  wilder- 
ness of  cruelty,  or  longer  to  hold  any  terms  with  such  a 
forsworn  outlaw  of  a  King,  the  Barons  sent  to  Louis,  son  of 
the  French  monarch,  to  offer  him  the  English  crown.  Caring 
as  little  for  the  Pope's  excommunication  of  him  if  he  accepted 
the  offer,  as  it  is  possible  his  father  may  have  cared  for  the 
Pope's  forgiveness  of  his  sins,  he  landed  at  Sandwich  (King 
John  immediately  running  away  from  Dover,  where  he  hap- 
pened to  be) ,  and  went  on  to  London.  The  Scottish  King, 
with  whom  many  of  the  Northern  English  Lords  had  taken 
refuge ;  numbers  of  the  foreign  soldiers,  numbers  of  the 
Barons,  and  numbers  of  the  people  went  over  to  him  every 
day  ;  — King  John,  the  while,  continually  running  away  in  all 
directions.  The  career  of  Louis  was  checked,  however,  by 
the  suspicions  of  the  Barons,  founded  on  the  dying  declara- 
tion of  a  French  Lord,  that  when  the  kingdom  was  conquered 
he  was  sworn  to  banish  them  as  traitors,  and  to  give  their 
estates  to  some  of  his  own  Nobles.  Rather  than  suffer  this, 
some  of  the  Barons  hesitated :  others  even  went  over  to  King 
John. 

It  seemed  to  be  the  turning-point  of  King  John's  fortunes, 
for,  in  his  savage  and  murderous  course,  he  had  now  taken 
some  towns  and  met  with  some  successes.  But,  happily  for 
England  and  humanit}*,  his  death  was  near.  Crossing  a 
dangerous  quicksand,  called  the  Wash,  not  very  far  from 
Wisbeach,  the  tide  came  up  and  nearly  drowned  his  army. 
He  and  his  soldiers  escaped ;  but,  looking  back  from  the 


134  A   CHILD'S  HISTOKY  OF  ENGLAND. 

shore  when  he  was  safe,  he  saw  the  roaring  water  sweep 
clown  in  a  torrent,  overturn  the  wagons,  horses,  and  men, 
that  carried  his  treasure,  and  engulf  them  in  a  raging  whirl- 
pool from  which  nothing  could  be  delivered. 

Cursing,  and  swearing,  and  gnawing  his  fingers,  he  went 
on  to  Swinestead  Abbey,  where  the  monks  set  before  him 
quantities  of  pears,  and  peaches,  and  new  cider  —  some  say 
poison  too,  but  there  is  very  little  reason  to  suppose  so  —  of 
which  he  ate  and  drank  in  an  immoderate  and  beastly  way. 
All  night  he  lay  ill  of  a  burning  fever,  and  haunted  with 
horrible  fears.  Next  da}r,  they  put  him  in  a  horse-litter,  and 
carried  him  to  Sleaford  Castle,  where  he  passed  another 
night  of  pain  and  horror.  Next  day,  they  carried  him,  with 
greater  difficulty  than  on  the  day  before,  to  the  Castle  of 
Newark  upon  Trent ;  and  there,  on  the  18th  of  October,  in 
the  forty-ninth  year  of  his  age,  and  the  seventeenth  of  his 
vile  reign,  was  an  end  of  this  miserable  brute. 


HENRY  THE  THIRD.  135 


CHAPTER  XV. 

ENGLAND    UNDER    HENRY    THE    THIRD,    CALLED,    OF 
WINCHESTER. 

IF  any  of  the  English  Barons  remembered  the  murdered 
Arthur's  sister,  Eleanor  the  fair  maid  of  Brittany,  shut  up  in 
her  convent  at  Bristol,  none  among  them  spoke  of  her  now, 
or  maintained  her  right  to  the  Crown.  The  dead  Usurper's 
eldest  boj*,  HENRY  by  name,  was  taken  by  the  Earl  of  Pem- 
broke, the  Marshal  of  England,  to  the  city  of  Gloucester,  and 
there  crowned  in  great  haste  when  he  was  only  ten  years  old. 
As  the  Crown  itself  had  been  lost  with  the  King's  treasure, 
in  the  raging  water,  and,  as  there  was  no  time  to  make 
another,  they  put  a  circle  of  plain  gold  upon  his  head  instead. 
"We  have  been  the  enemies  of  this  child's  father,"  said 
Lord  Pembroke,  a  good  and  true  gentleman,  to  the  few 
Lords  who  were  present,  "and  he  merited  our  ill-will;  but 
the  child  himself  is  innocent,  and  his  youth  demands  our 
friendship  and  protection."  Those  Lords  felt  tenderly 
towards  the  little  boy,  remembering  their  own  young  chil- 
dren ;  and  they  bowed  their  heads,  and  said,  "  Long  live  King 
Henry  the  Third  ! " 

Next,  a  great  council  met  at  Bristol,  revised  Magna  Charta, 
and  made  Lord  Pembroke  Regent  or  Protector  of  England, 
as  the  King  was  too  young  to  reign  alone.  The  next  thing 
to  be  done  was  to  get  rid  of  Prince  Louis  of  France,  and  to 
win  over  those  English  Barons  who  were  still  ranged  under 
his  banner.  He  was  strong  in  many  parts  of  England,  and 
in  London  itself;  and  he  held,  among  other  places,  a  certain 
Castle  called  the  Castle  of  Mount  Sorel,  in  Leicestershire. 


136  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF   ENGLAND. 

To  this  fortress,  after  some  skirmishing  and  truce-making, 
Lord  Pembroke  laid  siege.  Louis  despatched  an  army  of  six 
hundred  knights  and  twenty  thousand  soldiers  to  relieve  it. 
Lord  Pembroke,  who  was  not  strong  enough  for  such  a  force, 
retired  with  all  his  men.  The  army  of  the  French  Prince, 
which  had  marched  there  with  fire  and  plunder,  marched 
away  with  fire  and  plunder,  and  came,  in  a  boastful,  swag- 
gering manner,  to  Lincoln.  The  town  submitted ;  but  the 
Castle  in  the  town,  held  by  a  brave  widow  lady,  named 
NICHOLA  DE  CAMVILLE  (whose  property  it  was) ,  made  such 
a  sturd}*  resistance,  that  the  French  Count  in  command  of  the 
army  of  the  French  Prince  found  it  necessary  to  besiege  this 
Castle.  While  he  was  thus  engaged,  word  was  brought  to 
him  that  Lord  Pembroke,  with  four  hundred  knights,  two 
hundred  and  fifty  men  with  cross-bows,  and  a  stout  force  both 
of  horse  and  foot,  was  marching  towards  him.  "  What  care 
I?"  said  the  French  Count.  "The  Englishman  is  not  so 
mad  as  to  attack  me  and  my  great  army  in  a  walled  town  !  " 
But  the  Englishman  did  it  for  all  that,  and  did  it  —  not  so 
madly  but  so  wisely,  that  he  decoyed  the  great  army  into  the 
narrow,  ill-paved  lanes  and  bywa}*s  of  Lincoln,  where  its 
horse-soldiers  could  not  ride  in  any  strong  body ;  and  there 
he  made  such  havoc  with  them,  that  the  whole  force  surren- 
dered themselves  prisoners,  except  the  Count ;  who  said  that 
he  would  never  yield  to  any  English  traitor  alive,  and  accord- 
ingly got  killed.  The  end  of  this  victory,  which  the  English 
called,  for  a  joke,  the  Fair  of  Lincoln,  was  the  usual  one  in 
those  times  —  the  common  men  were  slain  without  any  mercy, 
and  the  knights  and  gentlemen  paid  ransom  and  went  home. 
The  wife  of  Louis,  the  fair  BLANCHE  OF  CASTILE,  dutiful!}1 
equipped  a  fleet  of  eight}*  good  ships,  and  sent  it  over  from 
France  to  her  husband's  aid.  An  English  fleet  of  forty  ships, 
some  good  and  some  bad,  gallantly  met  them  near  the  mouth 
of  the  Thames,  and  took  or  sunk  sixty-five  in  one  fight.  This 
great  loss  put  an  end  to  the  French  Prince's  hopes.  A  treaty 
was  made  at  Lambeth,  in  virtue  of  which  the  English  Barons 


HENRY  THE  THIRD.  137 

who  had  remained  attached  to  his  cause  returned  *o  their 
allegiance,  and  it  was  engaged  on  both  sides  that  the  Prince 
and  all  his  troops  should  retire  peacefully  to  France.  It  was 
time  to  go  ;  for  war  had  made  him  so  poor  that  he  was  obliged 
to  borrow  money  from  the  citizens  of  London  to  pay  his  ex- 
penses home. 

Lord  Pembroke  afterwards  applied  himself  to  governing  the 
country  justly,  and  to  healing  the  quarrels  and  disturbances 
that  had  arisen  among  men  in  the  days  of  the  bad  King  John. 
He  caused  Magna  Charta  to  be  still  more  improved,  and  so 
amended  the  Forest  Laws  that  a  Peasant  was  no  longer  put 
to  death  for  killing  a  stag  in  a  Royal  Forest,  but  was  only 
imprisoned.  It  would  have  been  well  for  England  if  it  could 
have  had  so  good  a  Protector  many  years  longer,  but  that 
was  not  to  be.  Within  three  years  after  the  young  King's 
Coronation,  Lord  Pembroke  died  ;  and  you  may  see  his  tomb, 
at  this  day,  in  the  old  Temple  Church  in  London. 

The  Protectorship  was  now  divided.  PETER  DE  ROCHES, 
whom  King  John  had  made  Bishop  of  Winchester,  was  en- 
trusted with  the  care  of  the  person  of  the  young  sovereign ; 
and  the  exercise  of  the  Royal  authority  was  confided  to  EARL 
HUBERT  DE  BURGH.  These  two  personages  had  from  the  first 
no  liking  for  each  other,  and  soon  became  enemies.  When 
the  3roung  King  was  declared  of  age,  Peter  de  Roches,  finding 
that  Hubert  increased  in  power  and  favor,  retired  discon- 
tentedly, and  went  abroad.  For  nearly  ten  years  afterwards 
Hubert  had  full  sway  alone. 

But  ten  years  is  a  long  time  to  hold  the  favor  of  a  King. 
This  King,  too,  as  he  grew  up,  showed  a  strong  resemblance 
to  his  father,  in  feebleness,  inconsistency,  and  irresolution. 
The  best  that  can  be  said  of  him  is  that  he  was  not  cruel. 
De  Roches  coming  home  again,  after  ten  years,  and  being  a 
novelty,  the  King  began  to  favor  him  and  to  look  coldly  on 
Hubert.  Wanting  money  besides,  and  having  made  Hubert 
rich,  he  began  to  dislike  Hubert.  At  last  he  was  made  to 
believe,  or  pretended  to  believe,  that  Hubert  had  misappro- 


138  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

priated  some  of  the  Royal  treasure ;  and  ordered  him  to  fur- 
nish an  account  of  all  he  had  done  in  his  administration. 
Besides  which,  the  foolish  charge  was  brought  against  Hubert 
that  he  had  made  himself  the  King's  favorite  by  magic.  Hu- 
bert very  well  knowing  that  he  could  never  defend  himself 
against  such  nonsense,  and  that  his  old  enemy  must  be  deter- 
mined on  his  ruin,  instead  of  answering  the  charges  fled  to 
Merton  Abbey.  Then  the  King,  in  a  violent  passion,  sent 
for  the  Mayor  of  London,  and  said  to  the  Mayor,  "  Take 
twenty  thousand  citizens,  and  drag  me  Hubert  de  Burgh  out 
of  that  abbey,  and  bring  him  here."  The  Ma}'or  posted  off 
to  do  it,  but  the  Archbishop  of  Dublin  (who  was  a  friend  of 
Hubert's)  warning  the  King  that  an  abbey  was  a  sacred  place, 
and  that  if  he  committed  any  violence  there,  he  must  answer 
for  it  to  the  Church,  the  King  changed  his  mind  and  called 
the  Mayor  back,  and  declared  that  Hubert  should  have  four 
months  to  prepare  his  defence,  and  should  be  safe  and  free 
during  that  time. 

Hubert,  who  relied  upon  the  King's  word,  though  I  think 
he  was  old  enough  to  have  known  better,  came  out  of  Merton 
Abbey  upon  these  conditions,  and  journeyed  away  to  see  his 
•wife :  a  Scottish  Princess  who  was  then  at  St.  Edmund's- 
Bury. 

Almost  as  soon  as  he  had  departed  from  the  Sanctuary, 
his  enemies  persuaded  the  weak  King  to  send  out  one  SIB 
GODFREY  DE  CRANCUMB,  who  commanded  three  hundred  vag- 
abonds called  the  Black  Band,  with  orders  to  seize  him. 
They  came  up  with  him  at  a  little  town  in  Essex,  called 
Brentwood,  when  he  was  in  bed.  He  leaped  out  of  bed,  got 
out  of  the  house,  fled  to  the  church,  ran  up  to  the  altar,  and 
laid  his  hand  upon  the  cross.  Sir  Godfrej"  and  the  Black 
Band,  caring  neither  for  church,  altar,  nor  cross,  dragged 
him  forth  to  the  church  door,  with  their  drawn  swords  flash- 
ing round  his  head,  and  sent  for  a  Smith  to  rivet  a  set  of 
chains  upon  him.  When  the  Smith  (I  wish  I  knew  his  name  !) 
was  brought,  all  dark  and  swarthy  with  the  smoke  of  his 


HENRY  THE  THIRD.  139 

forge,  and  panting  with  the  speed  he  had  made ;  and  the 
Black  Band,  falling  aside  to  show  him  the  Prisoner,  cried 
with  a  loud  uproar,  ' '  Make  the  fetters  heavy !  make  them 
strong !  "  the  Smith  dropped  upon  his  knee  —  but  not  to  the 
Black  Band  —  and  said,  "  This  is  the  brave  Earl  Hubert  de 
Burgh,  who  fought  at  Dover  Castle,  and  destroyed  the  French 
fleet,  and  has  done  his  country  much  good  service.  You 
may  kill  me,  if  you  like,  but  I  will  never  make  a  chain  for 
Earl  Hubert  de  Burgh  !  " 

The  Black  Band  never  blushed,  or  they  might  have  blushed 
at  this.  They  knocked  the  Smith  about  from  one  to  another, 
and  swore  at  him,  and  tied  the  Earl  on  horseback,  undressed 
as  he  was,  and  carried  him  off  to  the  Tower  of  London.  The 
Bishops,  however,  were  so  indignant  at  the  violation  of  the 
Sanctuary  of  the  Church,  that  the  frightened  King  soon 
ordered  the  Black  Band  to  take  him  back  again  ;  at  the  same 
time  commanding  the  Sheriff  of  Essex  to  prevent  his  escaping 
out  of  Brentwood  Church.  Well !  the  Sheriff  dug  a  deep 
trench  all  round  the  church,  and  erected  a  high  fence,  and 
watched  the  church  night  and  day  ;  the  Black  Band  and  their 
Captain  watched  it  too,  like  three  hundred  and  one  black 
wolves.  For  thirty-nine  days,  Hubert  de  Burgh  remained 
within.  At  length,  upon  the  fortieth  day,  cold  and  hunger 
were  too  much  for  him,  and  he  gave  himself  up  to  the  Black 
Band,  who  carried  him  off,  for  the  second  time,  to  the  Tower. 
When  his  trial  came  on,  he  refused  to  plead ;  but  at  last  it 
was  arranged  that  he  should  give  up  all  the  ro}ral  lands  which 
had  been  bestowed  upon  him,  and  should  be  kept  at  the  Castle 
of  Devizes,  in  what  was  called  "free  prison,"  in  charge  of 
four  knights  appointed  by  four  lords.  There,  he  remained 
almost  a  year,  until,  learning  that  a  follower  of  his  old  enemy 
the  Bishop  was  made  Keeper  of  the  Castle,  and  fearing  that 
he  might  be  killed  by  treachery,  he  climbed  the  ramparts  one 
dark  night,  dropped  from  the  top  of  the  high  Castle  wall  into 
the  moat,  and  coming  safely  to  the  ground,  took  refuge  in 
another  church.  From  this  place  he  was  delivered  by  a  party 


140  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

of  horse  despatched  to  his  help  by  some  nobles,  who  were  by 
this  time  in  revolt  against  the  King,  and  assembled  in  Wales. 
He  was  finally  pardoned  and  restored  to  his  estates,  but  he 
lived  privately,  and  never  more  aspired  to  a  high  post  in  the 
realm,  or  to  a  high  place  in  the  King's  favor.  And  thus  end 

—  more  happily  than  the  stories  of  many  favorites  of  Kings 

—  the  adventures  of  Earl  Hubert  de  Burgh. 

The  nobles,  who  had  risen  in  revolt,  were  stirred  up  to 
rebellion  by  the  overbearing  conduct  of  the  Bishop  of  Win- 
chester, who,  finding  that  the  King  secretly  hated  the  Great 
Charter  which  had  been  forced  from  his  father,  did  his  ut- 
most to  confirm  him  in  that  dislike,  and  in  the  preference  he 
showed  to  foreigners  over  the  English.  Of  this,  and  of  his 
even  publicly  declaring  that  the  Barons  of  England  were 
inferior  to  those  of  France,  the  English  Lords  complained 
with  such  bitterness,  that  the  King,  finding  them  well  sup- 
ported by  the  clergy,  became  frightened  for  his  throne,  and 
sent  away  the  Bishop  and  all  his  foreign  associates.  On  his 
marriage,  however,  with  ELEANOR,  a  French  lady,  the  daugh- 
ter of  the  Count  of  Provence,  he  openly  favored  the  foreign- 
ers again ;  and  so  many  of  his  wife's  relations  came  over, 
and  made  such  an  immense  family-party  at  court,  and  got  so 
many  good  things,  and  pocketed  so  mnch  money,  and  were 
so  high  with  the  English  whose  money  they  pocketed,  that 
the  bolder  English  Barons  murmured  openly  about  a  clause 
there  was  in  the  Great  Charter,  which  provided  for  the  ban- 
ishment of  unreasonable  favorites.  But  the  foreigners  only 
laughed  disdainfully,  and  said,  "  What  are  your  English 
laws  to  us  ?  " 

King  Philip  of  France  had  died,  and  had  been  succeeded 
by  Prince  Louis,  who  had  also  died  after  a  short  reign  of 
three  years,  and  had  been  succeeded  by  his  son  of  the  same 
name  —  so  moderate  and  just  a  man  that  he  was  not  the 
least  in  the  world  like  a  King,  as  Kings  went.  ISABELLA, 
King  Henry's  mother,  wished  very  much  (for  a  certain  spite 
she  had)  that  England  should  make  war  against  this  King ; 


HENRY  THE  THIRD.  141 

and,  as  King  Henry  was  a  mere  puppet  in  anybody's  hands 
who  knew  how  to  manage  his  feebleness,  she  easily  carried 
her  point  with  him.  But  the  Parliament  were  determined  to 
give  him  no  money  for  such  a  war.  So,  to  defy  the  Parlia- 
ment, he  packed  up  thirty  large  casks  of  silver  —  I  don't 
know  how  he  got  so  much ;  I  dare  say  he  screwed  it  out  of 
the  miserable  Jews  —  and  put  them  aboard  ship,  and  went 
away  himself  to  carry  war  into  France  :  accompanied  by  his 
mother  and  his  brother  Richard,  Earl  of  Cornwall,  who  was 
rich  and  clever.  But  he  only  got  well  beaten,  and  came  home. 

The  good-humor  of  the  Parliament  was  not  restored  by 
this.  They  reproached  the  King  with  wasting  the  public 
money  to  make  greedy  foreigners  rich,  and  were  so  stern 
with  him,  and  so  determined  not  to  let  him  have  more  of  it  to 
waste  if  they  could  help  it,  that  he  was  at  his  wit's  end  for 
some,  and  tried  so  shamelessly  to  get  all  he  could  from  his 
subjects  by  excuses  or  by  force,  that  the  people  used  to  say 
the  King  was  the  sturdiest  beggar  in  England.  He  took  the 
Cross,  thinking  to  get  some  money  by  that  means  ;  but,  as  it 
was  very  well  known  that  he  never  meant  to  go  on  a  crusade, 
he  got  none.  In  all  this  contention,  the  Londoners  were 
particularly  keen  against  the  King,  and  the  King  hated  them 
warmly  in  return.  Hating  or  loving,  however,  made  no 
difference ;  he  continued  in  the  same  condition  for  nine  or 
ten  years,  when  at  last  the  Barons  said  that  if  he  would  sol- 
emnly confirm  their  liberties  afresh,  the  Parliament  would 
vote  him  a  large  sum. 

As  he  readily  consented,  there  was  a  great  meeting  held 
in  Westminster  Hall,  one  pleasant  day  in  May,  when 
all  the  clergy,  dressed  in  their  robes  and  holding  every 
one  of  them  a  burning  candle  in  his  hand,  stood  up  (the 
Barons  being  also  there)  while  the  Archbishop  of  Can- 
terbuty  read  the  sentence  of  excommunication  against  any 
man,  and  ah1  men,  who  should  henceforth,  in  any  way,  in- 
fringe the  Great  Charter  of  the  Kingdom.  When  he  had 
done,  they  all  put  out  their  burning  candles  with  a  curse  upon 


142  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

the  soul  of  any  one,  and  every  one,  who  should  merit  that 
sentence.  The  King  concluded  with  an  oath  to  keep  the 
Charter,  "  As  I  am  a  man,  as  I  am  a  Christian,  as  I  am  a 
Knight,  as  I  am  a  King !  " 

It  was  easy  to  make  oaths,  and  easy  to  break  them ;  and 
the  King  did  both,  as  his  father  had  done  before  him.  He 
took  to  his  old  courses  again  when  he  was  supplied  with 
money,  and  soon  cured  of  their  weakness  the  few  who  had 
ever  really  trusted  him.  When  his  money  was  gone,  and  he 
was  once  more  borrowing  and  begging  everywhere  with  a 
meanness  worthy  of  his  nature,  he  got  into  a  difficulty  with 
the  Pope  respecting  the  Crown  of  Sicily,  which  the  Pope  said 
he  had  a  right  to  give  away,  and  which  he  offered  to  King 
Henry  for  his  second  son,  PRINCE  EDMUND.  But,  if  you  or 
I  give  away  what  we  have  not  got,  and  what  belongs  to 
somebody  else,  it  is  likely  that  the  person  to  whom  we  give 
it,  will  have  some  trouble  in  taking  it.  It  was  exactly  so  in 
this  case.  It  was  necessary  to  conquer  the  Sicilian  Crown 
before  it  could  be  put  upon  young  Edmund's  head.  It  could 
not  be  conquered  without  money.  The  Pope  ordered  the 
clergy  to  raise  money.  The  clergy,  however,  were  not  so 
obedient  to  him  as  usual ;  they  had  been  disputing  with  him 
for  some  time  about  his  unjust  preference  of  Italian  Priests 
in  England  ;  and  they  had  begun  to  doubt  whether  the  King's 
chaplain,  whom  he  allowed  to  be  paid  for  preaching  in  seven 
hundred  churches,  could  possibly  be,  even  by  the  Pope's 
favor,  in  seven  hundred  places  at  once.  "  The  Pope  and  the 
King  together,"  said  the  Bishop  of  London,  "  may  take  the 
mitre  off  my  head  ;  but,  if  they  do,  they  will  find  that  I  shall 
put  on  a  soldier's  helmet.  I  pay  nothing."  The  Bishop  of 
Worcester  was  as  bold  as  the  Bishop  of  London,  and  would 
pay  nothing  either.  Such  sums  as  the  more  timid  or  more 
helpless  of  the  clergy  did  raise  were  squandered  away,  with- 
out doing  any  good  to  the  King,  or  bringing  the  Sicilian 
Crown  an  inch  nearer  to  Prince  Edmund's  head.  The  end 
of  the  business  was,  that  the  Pope  gave  the  Crown  to  the 


HENRY  THE   THIRD.  143 

brother  of  the  King  of  France  (who  conquered  it  for  him- 
self) ,  and  sent  the  King  of  England  in  a  bill  of  one  hundred 
thousand  pounds  for  the  expenses  of  not  having  won  it. 

The  King  was  now  so  much  distressed  that  we  might 
almost  pity  him,  if  it  were  possible  to  pity  a  King  so  shabby 
and  ridiculous.  His  clever  brother,  Richard,  had  bought  the 
title  of  King  of  the  Romans  from  the  German  people,  and 
was  no  longer  near  him,  to  help  him  with  advice.  The 
clergy,  resisting  the  very  Pope,  were  in  alliance  with  the 
Barons.  The  Barons  were  headed  by  SIMON  DE  MONTFORT, 
Earl  of  Leicester,  married  to  King  Henry's  sister,  and, 
though  a  foreigner  himself,  the  most  popular  man  in  Eng- 
land against  the  foreign  favorites.  When  the  King  next 
met  his  Parliament,  the  Barons,  led  by  this  Earl,  came  before 
him,  armed  from  head  to  foot,  and  cased  in  armor.  When 
the  Parliament  again  assembled,  in  a  month's  time,  at  Ox- 
ford, this  Earl  was  at  their  head,  and  the  King  was  obliged 
to  consent,  on  oath,  to  what  was  called  a  Committee  of  Gov- 
ernment :  consisting  of  twenty-four  members  :  twelve  chosen 
b}7  the  Barons,  and  twelve  chosen  by  himself. 

But,  at  a  good  time  for  him,  his  brother  Richard  came 
back.  Richard's  first  act  (the  Barons  would  not  admit  him 
into  England  on  other  terms)  was  to  swear  to  be  faithful  to 
the  Committee  of  Government  —  which  he  immediately  began 
to  oppose  with  all  his  might.  Then,  the  Barons  began  to 
quarrel  among  themselves ;  especially  the  proud  Earl  of 
Gloucester  with  the  Earl  of  Leicester,  who  went  abroad  in 
disgust.  Then,  the  people  began  to  be  dissatisfied  with  the 
Bai-ons,  because  they  did  not  do  enough  for  them.  The 
King's  chances  seemed  so  good  again  at  length,  that  he  took 
heart  enough  —  or  caught  it  from  his  brother  —  to  tell  the 
Committee  of  Government  that  he  abolished  them  —  as  to 
his  oath,  never  mind  that,  the  Pope  said !  —  and  to  seize  all 
the  money  in  the  Mint,  and  to  shut  himself  up  in  the  Tower 
of  London.  Here  he  was  joined  by  his  only  son,  Prince 
Edward;  and,  from  the  Tower,  he  made  public  a  letter  of 


144  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

the  Pope's  to  the  world  in  general,  informing  all  men  that 
he  had  been  an  excellent  and  just  King  for  five-and- forty 
years. 

As  everybody  knew  he  had  been  nothing  of  the  sort, 
nobody  cared  much  for  this  document.  It  so  chanced  that 
the  proud  Earl  of  Gloucester  dying,  was  succeeded  by  his 
son ;  and  that  his  son,  instead  of  being  the  enemy  of  the 
Earl  of  Leicester,  was  (for  the  time)  his  friend.  It  fell  out, 
therefore,  that  these  two  Earls  joined  their  forces,  took  sev- 
eral of  the  Royal  Castles  in  the  country,  and  advanced  as 
hard  as  they  could  on  London.  The  London  people,  always 
opposed  to  the  King,  declared  for  them  with  great  joy.  The 
King  himself  remained  shut  up,  not  at  all  gloriously,  in  the 
Tower.  Prince  Edward  made  the  best  of  his  way  to  Windsor 
Castle.  His  mother,  the  Queen,  attempted  to  follow  him  by 
water,  but  the  people  seeing  her  barge  rowing  up  the  river, 
and  hating  her  with  all  their  hearts,  ran  to  London  Bridge, 
got  together  a  quantity  of  stones  and  mud,  and  pelted  the 
barge  as  it  came  through,  crying  furiously,  "Drown  the 
witch !  Drown  her ! "  They  were  so  near  doing  it  that 
the  Mayor  took  the  old  lady  under  his  protection,  and  shut 
her  up  in  St.  Paul's  until  the  danger  was  past. 

It  would  require  a  great  deal  of  writing  on  my  part,  and  a 
great  deal  of  reading  on  yours,  to  follow  the  King  through 
his  disputes  with  the  Barons,  and  to  follow  the  Barons 
through  their  disputes  with  one  another  —  so  I  will  make 
short  work  of  it  for  both  of  us,  and  only  relate  the  chief 
events  that  arose  out  of  these  quarrels.  The  good  King  of 
France  was  asked  to  decide  between  them.  He  gave  it  as 
his  opinion  that  the  King  must  maintain  the  Great  Charter, 
and  that  the  Barons  must  give  up  the  Committee  of  Govern- 
ment, and  all  the  rest  that  had  been  done  by  the  Parliament 
at  Oxford :  which  the  Royalists,  or  King's  party,  scornfully 
called  the  Mad  Parliament.  The  Barons  declared  that  these 
were  not  fair  terms,  and  they  would  not  accept  them.  Then 
they  caused  the  great  bell  of  St.  Paul's  to  be  tolled,  for  the 


HENRY   THE  THIRD.  145, 

purpose  of  rousing  up  the  London  people,  who  armed  them- 
selves at  the  dismal  sound  and  formed  quite  an  army  in  the 
streets.  I  am  sorry  to  say,  however,  that  instead  of  falling 
upon  the  King's  part}r  with  whom  their  quarrel  was,  they  fell 
upon  the  miserable  Jews,  and  killed  at  least  five  hundred  of 
them.  They  pretended  that  some  of  these  Jews  were  on  the 
King's  side,  and  that  they  kept  hidden  in  their  houses,  for 
the  destruction  of  the  people,  a  certain  terrible  composition 
called  Greek  Fire,  which  could  not  be  put  out  with  water,  but 
only  burnt  the  fiercer  for  it.  What  they  really  did  keep 
in  their  houses  was  money ;  and  this  their  cruel  enemies 
wanted,  and  this  their  cruel  enemies  took,  like  robbers  and 
murderers. 

The  Earl  of  Leicester  put  himself  at  the  head  of  these  Lon- 
doners and  other  forces,  and  followed  the  King  to  Lewes  in 
Sussex,  where  he  lay  encamped  with  his  army.  Before  giv- 
ing the  King's  forces  battle  here,  the  Earl  addressed  his 
soldiers,  and  said  that  King  Henry  the  Third  had  broken  so 
many  oaths,  that  he  had  become  the  enemy  of  God,  and 
therefore  they  would  wear  white  crosses  on  their  breasts,  as 
if  they  were  arrayed,  not  against  a  fellow-Christian,  but 
against  a  Turk.  White-crossed  accordingly,  they  rushed 
into  the  fight.  They  would  have  lost  the  day  —  the  King 
having  on  his  side  all  the  foreigners  in  England :  and,  from 
Scotland,  JOHN  COMYN,  JOHN  BALIOL,  and  ROBERT  BRUCE, 
with  all  their  men, — but  for  the  impatience  of  PRINCE  ED- 
WARD, who,  in  his  hot  desire  to  have  vengeance  on  the  people 
of  London,  threw  the  whole  of  his  father's  army  into  con- 
fusion. He  was  taken  Prisoner ;  so  was  the  King ;  so  was 
the  King's  brother  the  King  of  the  Romans ;  and  five  thou- 
sand Englishmen  were  left  dead  upon  the  bloody  grass. 

For  this  success  the  Pope  excommunicated  the  Earl  of 
Leicester :  which  neither  the  Earl  nor  the  people  cared  at  all 
about.  The  people  loved  him  and  supported  him,  and  he 
became  the  real  King ;  having  all  the  power  of  the  govern- 
ment in  his  own  hands,  though  he  was  outwardly  respectful 

10 


146  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

to  King  Henry  the  Third,  whom  he  took  with  him  wherever 
he  went,  like  a  poor  old  limp  court-card.  He  summoned  a 
Parliament  (in  the  year  one  thousand  two  hundred  and  sixty- 
five)  which  was  the  first  Parliament  in  England  that  the 
people  had  any  real  share  in  electing ;  and  he  grew  more  and 
more  in  favor  with  the  people  ever}'  day,  and  they  stood  by 
him  in  whatever  he  did. 

Many  of  the  other  Barons,  and  parti cularly  the  Earl  of 
Gloucester,  who  had  become  by  this  time  as  proud  as  his 
father,  grew  jealous  of  this  powerful  and  popular  Earl,  who 
was  proud  too,  and  began  to  conspire  against  him.  Since 
the  battle  of  Lewes,  Prince  Edward  had  been  kept  as  a  host- 
age, and,  though  he  was  otherwise  treated  like  a  Prince,  had 
never  been  allowed  to  go  out  without  attendants  appointed 
by  the  Earl  of  Leicester,  who  watched  him.  The  conspiring 
Lords  found  means  to  propose  to  him,  in  secret,  that  they 
should  assist  him  to  escape,  and  should  make  him  their 
leader :  to  which  he  very  heartily  assented. 

So,  on  a  da}'  that  was  agreed  upon,  he  said  to  his  attend- 
ants after  dinner  (being  then  at  Hereford),  "  I  should  like  to 
ride  on  horseback,  this  fine  afternoon,  a  little  way  into  the 
country."  As  the}',  too,  thought  it  would  be  very  pleasant 
to  have  a  canter  in  the  sunshine,  the}7  all  rode  out  of  the 
town  together  in  a  gay  little  troop.  When  they  came  to  a 
fine  level  piece  of  turf,  the  Prince  fell  to  comparing  their 
horses  one  with  another,  and  offering  bets  that  one  was 
faster  than  another;  and  the  attendants,  suspecting  no 
harm,  rode  galloping  matches  until  their  horses  were  quite 
tired.  The  Prince  rode  no  matches  himself,  but  looked  on 
from  his  saddle,  and  staked  his  money.  Thus  they  passed 
the  whole  merry  afternoon.  Now,  the  sun  was  setting,  and 
they  were  all  going  slowly  up  a  hill,  the  Prince's  horse  very 
fresh  and  all  the  other  horses  very  weary,  when  a  strange 
rider  mounted  on  a  grey  steed  appeared  at  the  top  of  the 
hill,  and  waved  his  hat.  "What  does  the  fellow  mean?" 
said  the  attendants  one  to  another.  The  Prince  answered  on 


HENRY   THE   THIRD.  147 

the  instant  by  setting  spurs  to  his  horse,  dashing  awaj-  at  his 
utmost  speed,  joining  the  man,  riding  into  the  midst  of  a 
little  crowd  of  horsemen  who  were  then  seen  waiting  under 
some  trees,  and  who  closed  around  him  ;  and  so  he  departed 
in  a  cloud  of  dust,  leaving  the  road  empty  of  all  but  the 
baffled  attendants,  who  sat  looking  at  one  another,  while 
their  horses  drooped  their  ears  and  panted. 

The  Prince  joined  the  Earl  of  Gloucester  at  Ludlow.  The 
Earl  of  Leicester,  with  a  part  of  the  army  and  the  stupid  old 
King,  was  at  Hereford.  One  of  the  Earl  of  Leicester's  sons, 
Simon  de  Montfort,  with  another  part  of  the  army,  was  in 
Sussex.  To  prevent  these  two  parts  from  uniting  was  the 
Prince's  first  object.  He  attacked  Simon  de  Montfort  by 
night,  defeated  him,  seized  his  banners  and  treasure,  and 
forced  him  into  Kenilworth  Castle  in  Warwickshire,  which 
belonged  to  his  family. 

His  father,  the  Earl  of  Leicester,  in  the  meanwhile,  not 
knowing  what  had  happened,  marched  out  of  Hereford,  with 
his  part  of  the  army  and  the  King,  to  meet  him.  He  came, 
on  a  bright  morning  in  August,  to  Evesham,  which  is  watered 
by  the  pleasant  river  Avon.  Looking  rather  anxiously  across 
the  prospect  towards  Kenilworth,  he  saw  his  own  banners 
advancing ;  and  his  face  brightened  with  joy.  But,  it  clouded 
darkly  when  he  presently  perceived  that  the  banners  were 
captured,  and  in  the  enemy's  hands ;  and  he  said,  "  It  is 
over.  The  Lord  have  mercy  on  our  souls,  for  our  bodies  are 
Prince  Edward's ! " 

He  fought  like  a  true  Knight,  nevertheless.  When  his 
horse  was  killed  under  him,  he  fought  on  foot.  It  was  a 
fierce  battle  and  the  dead  lay  in  heaps  eveiywhere.  The  old 
King,  stuck  up  in  a  suit  of  armor  on  a  big  war-horse,  which 
did  n't  mind  him  at  all,  and  which  carried  him  into  all  sorts 
of  places  where  he  did  n't  want  to  go,  got  into  everybody's 
way,  and  very  nearly  got  knocked  on  the  head  b}'  one  of  his 
son's  men.  But  he  managed  to  pipe  out,  "  I  am  Harry  of 
Winchester!"  and  the  Prince,  who  heard  him,  seized  his 


148  A  CHILD'S   HISTOEY   OF  ENGLAND. 

bridle,  and  took  him  out  of  peril.  The  Earl  of  Leicester 
still  fought  bravely,  until  his  best  son  Henry  was  killed,  and 
the  bodies  of  his  best  friends  choked  his  path ;  and  then  he 
fell,  still  fighting,  sword  in  hand.  They  mangled  his  body, 
and  sent  it  as  a  present  to  a  noble  lady  —  but  a  very  un- 
pleasant lady,  I  should  think  —  who  was  the  wife  of  his  worst 
enemy.  They  could  not  mangle  his  memory  in  the  minds  of 
the  faithful  people,  though.  Many  years  afterwards,  they 
loved  him  more  than  ever,  and  regarded  him  as  a  Saint,  and 
alwa3Ts  spoke  of  him  as  "  Sir  Simon  the  Righteous." 

And  even  though  he  was  dead,  the  cause  for  which  he  had 
fought  still  lived,  and  was  strong,  and  forced  itself  upon  the 
King  in  the  very  hour  of  victory.  Henry  found  himself 
obliged  to  respect  the  Great  Charter,  however  much  he  hated 
it,  and  to  make  laws  similar  to  the  laws  of  the  Great  Earl  of 
Leicester,  and  to  be  moderate  and  forgiving  towards  the 
people  at  last  —  even  towards  the  people  of  London,  who  had 
so  long  opposed  him.  There  were  more  risings  before  all 
this  was  done,  but  they  were  set  at  rest  by  these  means,  and 
Prince  Edward  did  his  best  in  all  things  to  restore  peace. 
One  Sir  Adam  de  Gourdon  was  the  last  dissatisfied  knight 
in  arms ;  but  the  Prince  vanquished  him  in  single  combat, 
in  a  wood,  and  nobly  gave  him  his  life,  and  became  his 
friend,  instead  of  slaying  him.  Sir  Adam  was  not  ungrate- 
ful. He  ever  afterwards  remained  devoted  to  his  generous 
conqueror. 

When  the  troubles  of  the  Kingdom  were  thus  calmed, 
Prince  Edward  and  his  cousin  Henr}T  took  the  Cross,  and 
went  away  to  the  Holy  Land,  with  many  English  Lords  and 
Knights.  Four  years  afterwards  the  King  of  the  Romans 
died,  and,  next  }-ear  (one  thousand  two  hundred  and  seventy- 
two)  ,  his  brother  the  weak  king  of  England  died.  He  was 
sixty-eight  years  old  then,  and  had  reigned  fifty-six  years. 
He  was  as  much  of  a  King  in  death,  as  he  had  ever  been  in 
life.  He  was  the  mere  pale  shadow  of  a  King  at  all  times. 


EDWARD  THE  FIRST.  149 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

ENGLAND    UNDER    EDWARD    THE    FIRST,    CALLED    LONGSHANKS. 

IT  was  now  the  year  of  our  Lord  one  thousand  two  hundred 
and  seventy-two ;  and  Prince  Edward,  the  heir  to  the  throne, 
being  away  in  the  Holy  Land,  knew  nothing  of  his  father's 
death.  The  Barons,  however,  proclaimed  him  King,  imme- 
diately after  the  Royal  funeral ;  and  the  people  very  willingly 
consented,  since  most  men  knew  too  well  by  this  time  what 
the  horrors  of  a  contest  for  the  crown  were.  So  King  Ed- 
ward the  First,  called,  in  a  not  very  complimentary  manner, 
LONGSHANKS,  because  of  the  slenderness  of  his  legs,  was 
peacefully  accepted  by  the  English  Nation. 

His  legs  had  need  to  be  strong,  however  long  and  thin  they 
were  ;  for  they  had  to  support  him  through  many  difficulties 
on  the  fiery  sands  of  Asia,  where  his  small  force  of  soldiers 
fainted,  died,  deserted,  and  seemed  to  melt  away.  But  his 
prowess  made  light  of  it,  and  he  said,  "  I  will  go  on,  if  I  go 
on  with  no  other  follower  than  my  groom  !  " 

A  Prince  of  this  spirit  gave  the  Turks  a  deal  of  trouble. 
He  stormed  Nazareth,  at  which  place,  of  all  places  on  earth, 
I  am  sorry  to  relate,  he  made  a  frightful  slaughter  of  innocent 
people;  and  then  he  went  to  Acre,  where  he  got  a  truce  of 
ten  3'ears  from  the  Sultan.  He  had  very  nearly  lost  his  life 
in  Acre,  through  the  treachery  of  a  Saracen  Noble,  called  the 
Emir  of  Jaffa,  who,  making  the  pretence  that  he  had  some 
idea  of  turning  Christian  and  wanted  to  know  all  about  that 
religion,  sent  a  trusty  messenger  to  Edward  very  often  — 
with  a  dagger  in  his  sleeve.  At  last,  one  Friday  in  Whitsun 
week,  when  it  was  very  hot,  and  all  the  sandy  prospect  lay 


150  A   CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

beneath  the  blazing  sun,  burnt  up  like  a  great  overdone  bis- 
cuit, and  Edward  was  lying  on  a  couch,  dressed  for  coolness 
in  only  a  loose  robe,  the  messenger,  with  his  chocolate-colored 
face  and  his  bright  dark  eyes  and  white  teeth,  came  creeping 
in  with  a  letter,  and  kneeled  down  like  a  tame  tiger.  But, 
the  moment  Edward  stretched  out  his  hand  to  take  the  letter, 
the  tiger  made  a  spring  at  his  heart.  He  was  quick,  but 
Edward  was  quick  too.  He  seized  the  traitor  by  his  choco- 
late throat,  threw  him  to  the  ground,  and  slew  him  with  the 
very  dagger  he  had  drawn.  The  weapon  had  struck  Edward 
in  the  arm,  and  although  the  wound  itself  was  slight,  it 
threatened  to  be  mortal,  for  the  blade  of  the  dagger  had  been 
smeared  with  poison.  Thanks,  however,  to  a  better  surgeon 
than  was  often  to  be  found  in  those  times,  and  to  some 
wholesome  herbs,  and  above  all,  to  his  faithful  wife,  ELEANOR, 
who  devotedly  nursed  him,  and  is  said  by  some  to  have  sucked 
the  poison  from  the  wound  with  her  own  red  lips  (which  I  am 
very  willing  to  believe),  Edward  soon  recovered  and  was 
sound  again. 

As  the  King  his  father  had  sent  entreaties  to  him  to  return 
home,  he  now  began  the  journey.  fHe  had  got  as  far  as  Italy, 
when  he  met  messengers  who  brought  him  intelligence  of  the 
King's  death.  Hearing  that  all  was  quiet  at  home,  he  made 
no  haste  to  return  to  his  own  dominions,  but  paid  a  visit  to 
the  Pope,  and  went  in  state  through  various  Italian  Towns, 
where  he  was  welcomed  with  acclamations  as  a  mighty  cham- 
pion of  the  Cross  from  the  Holy  Land,  and  where  he  received 
presents  of  purple  mantles  and  prancing  horses,  and  went 
along  in  great  triumph.  The  shouting  people  little  knew 
that  he  was  the  last  English  monarch  who  would  ever  embark 
in  a  crusade,  or  that  within  twenty  years  every  conquest  which 
the  Christians  had  made  in  the  Hoby  Land  at  the  cost  of  so 
much  blood,  would  be  won  back  by  the  Turks.  But  all  this 
came  to  pass. 

There  was,  and  there  is,  an  old  town  standing  in  a  plain  in 
France,  called  Chalons.  When  the  King  was  coming  towards 


EDWARD   THE   FIRST.  151 

this  place  on  his  way  to  England,  a  wily  French  Lord,  called 
the  Count  of  Chalons,  sent  him  a  polite  challenge  to  come 
with  his  knights  and  hold  a  fair  tournament  with  the  Count 
and  his  knights,  and  make  a  day  of  it  with  sword  and  lance. 
It  was  represented  to  the  King  that  the  Count  of  Chalons  was 
not  to  be  trusted,  and  that,  instead  of  a  holiday  fight  for  mere 
show  and  in  good  humor,  he  secretly  meant  a  real  battle,  in 
which  the  English  should  be  defeated  by  superior  force. 

The  King,  however,  nothing  afraid,  went  to  the  appointed 
place  on  the  appointed  day  with  a  thousand  followers.  When 
the  Count  came  with  two  thousand  and  attacked  the  English 
in  earnest,  the  English  rushed  at  them  with  such  valor  that 
the  Count's  men  and  the  Count's  horses  soon  began  to  be 
tumbled  down  all  over  the  field.  The  Count  himself  seized 
the  King  round  the  neck,  but  the  King  tumbled  him  out  of 
his  saddle  in  return  for  the  compliment,  and,  jumping  from 
his  own  horse,  and  standing  over  him,  beat  away  at  his  iron 
armor  like  a  blacksmith  hammering  on  his  anvil.  Even  when 
the  Count  owned  himself  defeated  and  offered  his  sword,  the 
King  would  not  do  him  the  honor  to  take  it,  but  made  him 
yield  it  up  to  a  common  soldier.  There  had  been  such  fury 
shown  in  this  fight,  that  it  was  afterwards  called  the  little 
Battle  of  Chalons. 

The  English  were  very  well  disposed  to  be  proud  of  their 
King  after  these  adventures  ;  so,  when  he  landed  at  Dover  in 
the  year  one  thousand  two  hundred  and  seventy-four  (being 
then  thirty-six  years  old) ,  and  went  on  to  Westminster,  where 
he  and  his  good  Queen  were  crowned  with  great  magnificence, 
splendid  rejoicings  took  place.  For  the  coronation-feast 
there  were  provided,  among  other  eatables,  four  hundred 
oxen,  four  hundred  sheep,  four  hundred  and  fifty  pigs,  eigh- 
teen wild  boars,  three  hundred  flitches  of  bacon,  and  twenty 
thousand  fowls.  The  fountains  and  conduits  in  the  street 
flowed  with  red  and  white  wine  instead  of  water ;  the  rich 
citizens  hung  silks  and  cloths  of  the  brightest  colors  out  of 
their  windows,  to  increase  the  beauty  of  the  show,  and  threw 


152  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

out  gold  and  silver  by  whole  handfuls  to  make  scrambles  for 
the  crowd.  In  short,  there  was  such  eating  and  drinking, 
such  music  and  capering,  such  a  ringing  of  bells  and  tossing 
of  caps,  such  a  shouting,  and  singing,  and  revelling,  as  the 
narrow  overhanging  streets  of  old  London  City  had  not  wit- 
nessed for  many  a  long  day.  All  the  people  were  merry  — 
except  the  poor  Jews  —  who,  trembling  within  their  houses, 
and  scarcely  daring  to  peep  out,  began  to  foresee  that  they 
would  have  to  find  the  money  for  this  joviality  sooner  or 
later. 

To  dismiss  this  sad  subject  of  the  Jews  for  the  present,  I 
am  sorry  to  add  that  in  this  reign  they  were  most  un- 
mercifully pillaged.  They  were  hanged  in  great  numbers, 
on  accusations  of  having  clipped  the  King's  coin  —  which  all 
kinds  of  people  had  done.  They  were  heavily  taxed ;  they 
were  disgracefully  badged ;  they  were,  on  one  day,  thirteen 
3'ears  after  the  coronation,  taken  up  with  their  wives  and 
children  and  thrown  into  beastly  prisons,  until  they  purchased 
their  release  by  pa}*ing  to  the  King  twelve  thousand  pounds. 
Finally,  every  kind  of  property  belonging  to  them  was  seized 
by  the  King,  except  so  little  as  would  defray  the  charge  of 
their  taking  themselves  away  into  foreign  countries.  Many 
years  elapsed  before  the  hope  of  gain  induced  any  of  their 
race  to  return  to  England,  where  they  had  been  treated  so 
heartlessly  and  had  suffered  so  much. 

If  King  Edward  the  First  had  been  as  bad  a  king  to  Chris- 
tians as  he  was  to  Jews,  he  would  have  been  bad  indeed. 
But  he  was,  in  general,  a  wise  and  great  monarch,  under 
whom  the  country  much  improved.  He  had  no  love  for  the 
Great  Charter  —  few  Kings  had,  through  many  many  years 
—  but  he  had  high  qualities.  The  first  bold  object  which  he 
conceived  when  he  came  home,  was,  to  unite  under  one  Sover- 
eign England,  Scotland,  and  Wales ;  the  two  last  of  which 
countries  had  each  a  little  king  of  its  own,  about  whom  the 
people  were  always  quarrelling  and  fighting,  and  making  a 
prodigious  disturbance  —  a  great  deal  more  than  he  was 
* 


EDWARD   THE   FIKST.  153 

worth.  In  the  course  of  King  Edward's  reign  he  was  en- 
gaged, besides,  in  a  war  with  France.  To  make  these  quar- 
rels clearer,  we  will  separate  their  histories  and  take  them 
thus.  Wales,  first.  France,  second.  Scotland,  third. 

LLEWELLYN  was  the  Prince  of  "Wales.  He  had  been  on  the 
side  of  the  Barons  in  the  reign  of  the  stupid  old  King,  but  had 
afterwards  sworn  allegiance  to  him.  When  King  Edward 
came  to  the  throne,  Llewellyn  was  required  to  swear  alle- 
giance to  him  also  ;  which  he  refused  to  do.  The  King,  being 
crowned  and  in  his  own  dominions,  three  times  more  required 
Llewellyn  to  come  and  do  homage ;  and  three  times  more 
Llewellyn  said  he  would  rather  not.  He  was  going  to  be 
married  to  ELEANOR  DE  MONTFORT,  a  young  lady  of  the  family 
mentioned  in  the  last  reign  ;  and  it  chanced  that  this  young 
lady,  coming  from  France  with  her  youngest  brother,  EMERIC, 
was  taken  by  an  English  ship,  and  was  ordered  by  the  Eng- 
lish King  to  be  detained.  Upon  this,  the  quarrel  came  to  a 
head.  The  King  went,  with  his  fleet,  to  the  coast  of  Wales, 
where,  so  encompassing  Llewellyn  that  he  could  only  take 
refuge  in  the  bleak  mountain  region  of  Snowdon  in  which  no 
provisions  could  reach  him,  he  was  soon  starved  into  an  apol- 
ogy, and  into  a  treaty  of  peace,  and  into  paying  the  expenses 
of  the  war.  The  King,  however,  forgave  him  some  of  the 
hardest  conditions  of  the  treaty,  and  consented  to  his  mar- 
riage. And  he  now  thought  he  had  reduced  Wales  to 
obedience. 

But,  the  Welsh,  although  they  were  naturally  a  gentle, 
quiet,  pleasant  people,  who  liked  to  receive  strangers  in  their 
cottages  among  the  mountains,  and  to  set  before  them  with 
free  hospitality  whatever  they  had  to  eat  and  drink,  and  to 
play  to  them  on  their  harps,  and  sing  their  native  ballads  to 
them,  were  a  people  of  great  spirit  when  their  blood  was  up. 
Englishmen,  after  this  affair,  began  to  be  insolent  in  Wales, 
and  to  assume  the  air  of  masters  ;  and  the  Welsh  pride  could 
not  bear  it.  Moreover,  they  believed  in  that  unlucky  old 


154  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

Merlin,  some  of  whose  unlucky  old  prophecies  somebody  al- 
ways seemed  doomed  to  remember  when  there  was  a  chance 
of  its  doing  harm  ;  and  just  at  this  time  some  blind  old  gen- 
tleman with  a  harp,  and  a  long  white  beard,  who  was  an  ex- 
cellent person,  but  had  become  of  an  unknown  age  and  tedious, 
burst  out  with  a  declaration  that  Merlin  had  predicted  that 
when  English  money  had  become  round,  a  Prince  of  Wales 
would  be  crowned  in  London.  Now,  King  Edward  had 
recently  forbidden  the  English  penny  to  be  cut  into  halves 
and  quarters  for  halfpence  and  farthings,  and  had  actually  in- 
troduced a  round  coin ;  therefore,  the  Welsh  people  said  this 
was  the  time  Merlin  meant,  and  rose  accordingly. 

King  Edward  had  bought  over  PRINCE  DAVID,  Llewellyn's 
brother,  by  heaping  favors  upon  him  ;  but  he  was  the  first  to 
revolt,  being  perhaps  troubled  in  his  conscience.  One  stormy 
night,  he  surprised  the  Castle  of  Hawarden,  in  possession  of 
which  an  English  nobleman  had  been  left ;  killed  the  whole 
garrison,  and  carried  off  the  nobleman  a  prisoner  to  Snowdon. 
Upon  this,  the  Welsh  people  rose  like  one  man.  King  Ed- 
ward, with  his  arm}',  marching  from  Worcester  to  the  Menai 
Strait,  crossed  it  —  near  to  where  the  wonderful  tubular  iron 
bridge  now,  in  days  so  different,  makes  a  passage  for  railway 
trains  —  by  a  bridge  of  boats  that  enabled  forty  men  to  march 
abreast.  He  subdued  the  Island  of  Anglesea,  and  sent  his 
men  forward  to  observe  the  enenvy.  The  sudden  appearance 
of  the  Welsh  created  a  panic  among  them,  and  they  fell  back 
to  the  bridge.  The  tide  had  in  the  meantime  risen  and  sepa- 
rated the  boats  ;  the  Welsh  pursuing  them,  they  were  driven 
into  the  sea,  and  there  the}'  sank,  in  their  heavy  iron  armor, 
by  thousands.  After  this  victory  Llewellyn,  helped  by  the 
severe  winter-weather  of  Wales,  gained  another  battle :  but 
the  King  ordering  a  portion  of  his  English  army  to  advance 
through  South  Wales,  and  catch  him  between  two  foes,  and 
Llewellyn  bravely  turning  to  meet  this  new  enemy,  he  was 
surprised  and  killed  —  very  meanly,  for  he  was  unarmed  and 
defenceless.  His  head  was  struck  off  and  sent  to  London, 


EDWARD   THE   FIRST.  155 

where  it  was  fixed  up  on  the  Tower,  encircled  with  a  wreath, 
some  say  of  ivy,  some  say  of  willow,  some  sa}'  of  silver,  to 
make  it  look  like  a  ghastl}'  coin  in  ridicule  of  the  prediction. 

David,  however,  still  held  out  for  six  months,  though  ea- 
gerly sought  after  by  the  King,  and  hunted  by  his  own  coun- 
trymen. One  of  them  finally  betrayed  him  with  his  wife  and 
children.  He  was  sentenced  to  be  hanged,  drawn,  and  quar- 
tered ;  and  from  that  time  this  became  the  established  pun- 
ishment of  Traitors  in  England  —  a  punishment  wholly  without 
excuse,  as  being  revolting,  vile,  and  cruel,  after  its  object  is 
dead :  and  which  has  no  sense  in  it,  as  its  only  real  degrada- 
tion (and  that  nothing  can  blot  out)  is  to  the  country  that 
permits  on  an}'  consideration  such  abominable  barbarity. 

Wales  was  now  subdued.  The  Queen  giving  birth  to  a 
young  prince  in  the  Castle  of  Carnarvon,  the  King  showed 
him  to  the  Welsh  people  as  their  countryman,  and  called  him 
Prince  of  Wales  ;  a  title  that  has  ever  since  been  borne  by 
the  heir-apparent  to  the  English  Throne  —  which  that  little 
Prince  soon  became,  by  the  death  of  his  elder  brother.  The 
King  did  better  things  for  the  Welsh  than  that,  by  improving 
their  laws  and  encouraging  their  trade.  Disturbances  still 
took  place,  chiefly  occasioned  by  the  avarice  and  pride  of  the 
English  Lords,  on  whom  Welsh  lands  and  castles  had  been 
bestowed  :  but  the}*  were  subdued,  and  the  country  never  rose 
again.  There  is  a  legend  that  to  prevent  the  people  from 
being  incited  to  rebellion  by  the  songs  of  their  bards  and 
harpers,  Edward  had  them  all  put  to  death.  Some  of  them 
may  have  fallen  among  other  men  who  held  out  against  the 
King ;  but  this  general  slaughter  is,  I  think,  a  fane}'  of  the 
harpers  themselves,  who,  I  dare  say,  made  a  song  about  it 
many  years  afterwards,  and  sang  it  by  the  Welsh  firesides 
until  it  came  to  be  believed. 

The  foreign  war  of  the  reign  of  Edward  the  First  arose  in 
this  way.  The  crews  of  two  vessels,  one  a  Norman  ship,  and 
the  other  an  English  ship,  happened  to  go  to  the  same  place 


156  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

in  their  boats  to  fill  their  casks  with  fresh  water.     Being 
rough  angry  fellows,  they  began  to  quarrel,  and  then  to  fight 

—  the  English  with  their  fists  ;  the  Normans  with  their  knives 

—  and,  in  the  fight,  a  Norman  was  killed.     The  Norman  crew, 
instead  of  revenging  themselves  upon  those  English  sailors 
with  whom  they  had  quarrelled   (who  were  too  strong  for 
them,  I  suspect),  took  to  their  ship  again  in  a  great  rage, 
attacked  the  first  English  ship  they  met,  laid  hold  of  an  unof- 
fending merchant  who  happened  to  be  on  board,  and  brutally 
hanged  him  in  the  rigging  of  their  own  vessel  with  a  dog  at 
his  feet.     This  so  enraged  the  English  sailors  that  there  was 
no  restraining  them ;  and  whenever,  and  wherever,  English 
sailors  met  Norman  sailors,  they  fell  upon  each  other  tooth 
and  nail.     The  Irish  and  Dutch  sailors  took  part  with  the 
English ;  the  French  and  Genoese  sailors  helped  the  Nor- 
mans ;  and  thus  the  greater  part  of  the  mariners  sailing  over 
the  sea  became,  in  their  way,  as  violent  and  raging  as  the  sea 
itself  when  it  is  disturbed. 

King  Edward's  fame  had  been  so  high  abroad  that  he  had 
been  chosen  to  decide  a  difference  between  France  and  another 
foreign  power,  and  had  lived  upon  the  Continent  three  3-ears. 
At  first,  neither  he  nor  the  French  King  PHILIP  (the  good 
Louis  had  been  dead  some  time)  interfered  in  these  quarrels  ; 
but  when  a  fleet  of  eighty  English  ships  engaged  and  utterly 
defeated  a  Norman  fleet  of  two  hundred,  in  a  pitched  battle 
fought  round  a  ship  at  anchor,  in  which  no  quarter  was  given, 
the  matter  became  too  serious  to  be  passed  over.  King  Ed- 
ward, as  Duke  of  Guienne,  was  summoned  to  present  himself 
before  the  King  of  France,  at  Paris,  and  answer  for  the  dam- 
age done  by  his  sailor  subjects.  At  first,  he  sent  the  Bishop 
of  London  as  his  representative,  and  then  his  brother  EDMUND, 
who  was  married  to  the  French  Queen's  mother.  I  am  afraid 
Edmund  was  an  easy  man,  and  allowed  himself  to  be  talked 
over  by  his  charming  relations,  the  French  court  ladies ;  at 
all  events,  he  was  induced  to  give  up  his  brother's  dukedoni 
for  forty  days  —  as  a  mere  form,  the  Freucii  King  said,  to 


EDWARD   THE   FIRST.  157 

satisfy  his  honor  —  and  he  was  so  very  much  astonished,  when 
the  time  was  out,  to  find  that  the  French  King  had  no  idea  of 
giving  it  up  again,  that  I  should  not  wonder  if  it  hastened 
his  death  ;  which  soon  took  place. 

King  Edward  was  a  King  to  win  his  foreign  dukedom  back 
again,  if  it  could  be  won  by  energy  and  valor.  He  raised  a 
large  army,  renounced  his  allegiance  as  Duke  of  Guienne,  and 
crossed  the  sea  to  carry  war  into  France.  Before  any  im- 
portant battle  was  fought,  however,  a  truce  was  agreed  upon 
for  two  years ;  and  in  the  course  of  that  time,  the  Pope  ef- 
fected a  reconciliation.  King  Edward,  who  was  now  a  wid- 
ower, having  lost  his  affectionate  and  good  wife,  Eleanor, 
married  the  French  King's  sister,  MARGARET,  and  the  Prince 
of  Wales  was  contracted  to  the  French  King's  daughter, 
ISABELLA. 

Out  of  bad  things  good  things  sometimes  arise.  Out  of 
this  hanging  of  the  innocent  merchant,  and  the  bloodshed  and 
strife  it  caused,  there  came  to  be  established  one  of  the 
greatest  powers  that  the  English  people  now  possess.  The 
preparations  for  the  war  being  very  expensive,  and  King  Ed- 
ward greatly  wanting  money,  and  being  very  arbitrar}-  in  his 
ways  of  raising  it,  some  of  the  Barons  began  firmly  to  oppose 
him.  Two  of  them,  in  particular,  HUMPHREY  BOHUN,  Earl 
of  Hereford,  and  ROGER  BIGOD,  Earl  of  Norfolk,  were  so 
stout  against  him  that  they  maintained  he  had  no  right  to 
command  them  to  head  his  forces  in  Guienne,  and  flatly  re- 
fused to  go  there.  "  B}*  Heaven,  Sir  Earl,"  said  the  King  to 
the  Earl  of  Hereford,  in  a  great  passion,  "  you  shall  either  go 
or  be  hanged !  "  "  B}-  Heaven,  Sir  King,"  replied  the  Earl, 
"  I  will  neither  go  nor  yet  will  I  be  hanged !  "  and  both  he 
and  the  other  Earl  sturdily  left  the  court,  attended  by  many 
Lords.  The  King  tried  every  means  of  raising  money. 
He  taxed  the  clergy,  in  spite  of  all  the  Pope  said  to  the  con- 
trary ;  and  when  they  refused  to  pay,  reduced  them  to  sub- 
mission, by  saying  Very  well,  then  they  had  no  claim  upon 
the  government  for  protection,  and  any  man  might  plunder 


158  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

them  who  would  —  which  a  good  man}7  men  were  very  ready 
to  do,  and  very  readily  did,  and  which  the  clergy  found  too 
losing  a  game  to  be  pla}-ed  at  long.  He  seized  all  the  wool 
and  leather  in  the  hands  of  the  merchants,  promising  to  pay 
for  it  some  fine  day  ;  and  he  set  a  tax  upon  the  exportation 
of  wool,  which  was  so  unpopular  among  the  traders  that  it 
was  called  "The  evil  toll."  But  all  would  not  do.  The 
Barons,  led  by  those  two  great  Earls,  declared  any  taxes  im- 
posed without  the  consent  of  Parliament,  unlawful ;  and  the 
Parliament  refused  to  impose  taxes,  until  the  King  should 
confirm  afresh  the  two  Great  Charters,  and  should  solemnly 
declare  in  writing,  that  there  was  no  power  in  the  country  to 
raise  money  from  the  people,  evermore,  but  the  power  of  Par- 
liament representing  all  ranks  of  the  people.  The  King  was 
very  unwilling  to  diminish  his  own  power  by  allowing  this 
great  privilege  in  the  Parliament ;  but  there  was  no  help  for 
it,  and  he  at  last  complied.  We  shall  come  to  another  King 
by-and-by,  who  might  have  saved  his  head  from  rolling  off,  if 
he  had  profited  by  this  example. 

The  people  gained  other  benefits  in  Parliament  from  the 
good  sense  and  wisdom  of  this  King.  Many  of  the  laws  were 
much  improved ;  provision  was  made  for  the  greater  safety  of 
travellers,  and  the  apprehension  of  thieves  and  murderers  ; 
the  priests  were  prevented  from  holding  too  much  land,  and  so 
becoming  too  powerful ;  and  Justices  of  the  Peace  were  first 
appointed  (though  not  at  first  under  that  name)  in  various 
parts  of  the  country. 

And  now  we  come  to  Scotland,  which  was  the  great  and 
lasting  trouble  of  the  reign  of  King  Edward  the  First. 

About  thirteen  years  after  King  Edward's  coronation,  Alex- 
ander the  Third,  the  King  of  Scotland,  died  of  a  fall  from  his 
horse.  He  had  been  married  to  Margaret,  King  Edward's 
sister.  All  their  children  being  dead,  the  Scottish  crown 
became  the  right  of  a  young  Princess  only  eight  years  old, 
the  daughter  of  ERIC,  King  of  Norway,  who  had  married  a 


EDWARD   THE   FIRST.  159 

daughter  of  the  deceased  sovereign.  King  Edward  proposed, 
that  the  Maiden  of  Norway,  as  this  Princess  was  called, 
should  be  engaged  to  be  married  to  his  eldest  son  ;  but,  un- 
fortunately, as  she  was  coming  over  to  England  she  fell  sick, 
and  landing  on  one  of  the  Orkney  Islands,  died  there.  A 
great  commotion  immediately  began  in  Scotland,  where  as 
many  as  thirteen  noisy  claimants  to  the  vacant  throne  started 
up  and  made  a  general  confusion. 

King  Edward  being  much  renowned  for  his  sagacity  and 
justice,  it  seems  to  have  been  agreed  to  refer  the  dispute  to 
him.  He  accepted  the  trust,  and  went  with  an  army  to  the 
Border-land  where  England  and  Scotland  joined.  There,  he 
called  upon  the  Scottish  gentlemen  to  meet  him  at  the  Castle 
of  Norham,  on  the  English  side  of  the  river  Tweed  ;  and  to 
that  Castle  they  came.  But,  before  he  would  take  any  step 
in  the  business,  he  required  those  Scottish  gentlemen,  one 
and  all,  to  do  homage  to  him  as  their  superior  Lord ;  and 
when  the}-  hesitated,  he  said  "  By  holy  Edward,  whose  crown 
I  wear,  I  will  have  my  rights,  or  I  will  die  in  maintaining 
them  !  "  The  Scottish  gentlemen,  who  had  not  expected  this, 
were  disconcerted,  and  asked  for  three  weeks  to  think  about 
it. 

At  the  end  of  the  three  weeks,  another  meeting  took  place, 
on  a  green  plain  on  the  Scottish  side  of  the  river.  Of  all  the 
competitors  for  the  Scottish  throne,  there  were  only  two  who 
had  any  real  claim,  in  right  of  their  near  kindred  to  the  Royal 
family.  These  were  JOHN  BALIOL  and  ROBERT  BRUCE  ;  and 
the  right  was,  I  have  no  doubt,  on  the  side  of  John  Baliol. 
At  this  particular  meeting  John  Baliol  was  not  present,  but 
Robert  Bruce  was ;  and  on  Robert  Bruce  being  formally 
asked  whether  he  acknowledged  the  King  of  England  for  his 
superior  lord,  he  answered,  plainty  and  distinctly,  Yes,  he  did. 
Next  day,  John  Baliol  appeared,  and  said  the  same.  This 
point  settled,  some  arrangements  were  made  for  inquiring 
into  their  titles. 

The  inquiry  occupied  a  pretty  long  time  —  more  than  a 


160  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

year.  While  it  was  going  on,  King  Edward  took  the  oppor- 
tunity of  making  a  journey  through  Scotland,  and  calling  upon 
the  Scottish  people  of  all  degrees  to  acknowledge  themselves 
his  vassals,  or  be  imprisoned  until  they  did.  In  the  mean- 
while, Commissioners  were  appointed  to  conduct  the  inquiry, 
a  Parliament  was  held  at  Berwick  about  it,  the  two  claimants 
were  heard  at  full  length,  and  there  was  a  vast  amount  of 
talking.  At  last,  in  the  great  hall  of  the  Castle  of  Berwick, 
the  King  gave  judgment  in  favor  of  John  Baliol :  who,  con- 
senting to  receive  his  crown  by  the  King  of  England's  favor 
and  permission,  was  crowned  at  Scone,  in  an  old  stone  chair 
which  had  been  used  for  ages  in  the  abbey  there,  at  the  cor- 
onations of  Scottish  Kings.  Then,  King  Edward  caused  the 
great  seal  of  Scotland,  used  since  the  late  King's  death,  to 
be  broken  in  four  pieces,  and  placed  in  the  English  Treasury ; 
and  considered  that  he  now  had  Scotland  (according  to  the 
common  saying)  under  his  thumb. 

Scotland  had  a  strong  will  of  its  own  yet,  however.  King 
Edward,  determined  that  the  Scottish  King  should  not  forget 
he  was  his  vassal,  summoned  him  repeatedly  to  come  and 
defend  himself  and  his  Judges  before  the  English  Parliament 
when  appeals  from  the  decisions  of  Scottish  courts  of  justice 
were  being  heard.  At  length,  John  Baliol,  who  had  no  great 
heart  of  his  own,  had  so  much  heart  put  into  him  by  the  brave 
spirit  of  the  Scottish  people,  who  took  this  as  a  national  insult, 
that  he  refused  to  come  any  more.  Thereupon,  the  King 
further  required  him  to  help  him  in  his  war  abroad  (which 
was  then  in  progress),  and  to  give  up,  as  security  for  his 
good  behavior  in  future,  the  three  strong  Scottish  Castles  of 
Jedburgh,  Roxburgh,  and  Berwick.  Nothing  of  this  being 
done ;  on  the  contrar}-,  the  Scottish  people  concealing  their 
King  among  their  mountains  in  the  Highlands  and  showing  a 
determination  to  resist ;  Edward  marched  to  Berwick  with  an 
army  of  thirty  thousand  foot,  and  four  thousand  horse ;  took 
the  Castle,  and  slew  its  whole  garrison,  and  the  inhabitants 
of  the  town  as  well  —  men,  women,  and  children.  LOUD 


EDWARD   THE    FIRST.  101 

WARRENNE,  Earl  of  Surrey,  then  went  on  to  the  Castle  of 
Dunbar,  before  which  a  battle  was  fought,  and  the  whole 
Scottish  army  defeated  with  great  slaughter.  The  victory 
being  complete,  the  P^arl  of  Surrey  was  left  as  Guardian  of 
Scotland ;  the  principal  offices  in  that  kingdom  were  given  to 
Englishmen  ;  the  more  powerful  Scottish  Nobles  were  obliged 
to  come  and  live  in  England  ;  the  Scottish  crown  and  sceptre 
were  brought  away ;  and  even  the  old  stone  chair  was  carried 
off  and  placed  in  Westminster  Abbe}*,  where  you  may  see  it 
now.  Baliol  had  the  Tower  of  London  lent  him  for  a  resi- 
dence, with  permission  to  range  about  within  a  circle  of  twenty 
miles.  Three  years  afterwards  he  was  allowed  to  go  to 
Normandy,  where  he  had  estates,  and  where  he  passed  the 
remaining  six  years  of  his  life  :  far  more  happily,  I  dare  say, 
than  he  had  lived  for  a  long  while  in  angry  Scotland. 

Now,  there  was,  in  the  West  of  Scotland,  a  gentleman  of 
small  fortune,  named  WILLIAM  WALLACE,  the  second  son  of 
a  Scottish  knight.  He  was  a  man  of  great  size  and  great 
strength  ;  he  was  very  brave  and  daring ;  when  he  spoke  to 
a  bod}"  of  his  countrymen,  he  could  rouse  them  in  a  wonderful 
manner  by  the  power  of  his  burning  words  ;  he  loved  Scotland 
dearly,  and  he  hated  England  with  his  utmost  might.  The 
domineering  conduct  of  the  English  who  now  held  the  places 

trust  in  Scotland  made  them  as  intolerable  to  the  proud 
Scottish  people  as  they  had  been,  under  similar  circumstances, 
to  the  Welsh ;  and  no  man  in  all  Scotland  regarded  them 
with  so  much  smothered  rage  as  William  Wallace.  One  day, 
an  Englishman  in  office,  little  knowing  what  he  was,  affronted 
him.  Wallace  instantly  struck  him  dead,  and  taking  refuge 
among  the  rocks  and  hills,  and  there  joining  with  his  country- 
man, SIR  WILLIAM  DOUGLAS,  who  was  also  in  arms  against 
King  Edward,  became  the  most  resolute  and  undaunted 
champion  of  a  people  struggling  for  their  independence  that 
ever  lived  upon  the  earth. 

The   English  Guardian  of  the  Kingdom  fled  before  him, 
and,  thus  encouraged,  the  Scottish,  people  revolted  every- 

11 


162  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

where,  and  fell  upon  the  English  without  mercy.  The  Earl 
of  Surre}T,  by  the  King's  commands,  raised  all  the  power  of 
the  Border-counties,  and  two  English  armies  poured  into 
Scotland.  Only  one  Chief,  in  the  face  of  those  armies,  stood 
by  Wallace,  who,  with  a  force  of  forty  thousand  men,  awaited 
the  invaders  at  a  place  on  the  river  Forth,  within  two  miles  of 
Stirling.  Across  the  river  there  was  only  one  poor  wooden 
bridge,  called  the  bridge  of  Kildean  —  so  narrow,  that  but 
two  men  could  cross  it  abreast.  With  his  eyes  upon  this 
bridge,  Wallace  posted  the  greater  part  of  his  men  among 
some  rising  grounds,  and  waited  calmly.  When  the  English 
army  came  up  on  the  opposite  bank  of  the  river,  messengers 
were  sent  forward  to  offer  terms.  Wallace  sent  them  back 
with  a  defiance,  in  the  name  of  the  freedom  of  Scotland. 
Some  of  the  officers  of  the  Earl  of  Surrey  in  command  of 
the  English,  with  their  eyes  also  on  the  bridge,  advised  him 
to  be  discreet  and  not  hasty.  He,  however,  urged  to  imme- 
diate battle  by  some  other  officers,  and  particularly  by  CKES- 
SINGHAM,  King  Edward's  treasurer,  and  a  rash  man,  gave  the 
word  of  command  to  advance.  One  thousand  English  crossed 
the  bridge,  two  abreast ;  the  Scottish  troops  were  as  motion- 
less as  stone  images.  Two  thousand  English  crossed  ;  three 
thousand,  four  thousand,  five.  Not  a  feather,  all  this  time, 
had  been  seen  to  stir  among  the  Scottish  bonnets.  Now, 
they  all  fluttered.  "  Forward,  one  party,  to  the  foot  of  the 
Bridge!"  cried  Wallace,  "and  let  no  more  English  cross! 
The  rest,  down  with  me  on  the  five  thousand  who  have  come 
over,  and  cut  them  all  to  pieces  !  "  It  was  done,  in  the  sight 
of  the  whole  remainder  of  the  English  army,  who  could  give 
no  help.  Cressingham  himself  was  killed,  and  the  Scotch 
made  whips  for  their  horses  of  his  skin. 

King  Edward  was  abroad  at  this  time,  and  during  the 
successes  on  the  Scottish  side  which  followed,  and  which 
enabled  bold  Wallace  to  win  the  whole  country  back  again, 
and  even  to  ravage  the  English  borders.  But,  after  a  few 
winter  months,  the  King  returned,  and  took  the  field  with 


EDWARD  THE   FIRST.  163 

more  than  his  usual  energy.  One  night,  when  a  kick  from 
his  horse  as  they  both  lay  on  the  ground  together  broke  two 
of  his  ribs,  and  a  cry  arose  that  he  was  killed,  he  leaped  into 
his  saddle,  regardless  of  the  pain  he  suffered,  and  rode 
through  the  camp.  Day  then  appearing,  he  gave  the  word 
(still,  of  course,  in  that  bruised  and  aching  state)  Forward  ! 
and  led  his  army  on  to  near  Falkirk,  where  the  Scottish  forces 
were  seen  drawn  up  on  some  stony  ground,  behind  a  morass. 
Here,  he  defeated  Wallace,  and  killed  fifteen  thousand  of 
his  men.  With  the  shattered  remainder,  Wallace  drew  back 
to  Stirling ;  but,  being  pursued,  set  fire  to  the  town  that  it 
might  give  no  help  to  the  English,  and  escaped.  The  inhab- 
itants of  Perth  afterwards  set  fire  to  their  houses  for  the  same 
reason,  and  the  King,  unable  to  find  provisions,  was  forced 
to  withdraw  his  army. 

Another  ROBERT  BRUCE,  the  grandson  of  him  who  had 
disputed  the  Scottish  crown  with  Baliol,  was  now  in  arms 
against  the  King  (that  elder  Bruce  being  dead),  and  also 
JOHN  COMYN,  Baliol's  nephew.  These  two  young  men  might 
agree  in  opposing  Edward,  but  could  agree  in  nothing  else, 
as  they  were  rivals  for  the  throne  of  Scotland.  Probably  it 
was  because  the}-  knew  this,  and  knew  what  troubles  must 
arise  even  if  they  could  hope  to  get  the  better  of  the  great 
English  King,  that  the  principal  Scottish  people  applied  to 
the  Pope  for  his  interference.  The  Pope,  on  the  principle  of 
losing  nothing  for  want  of  trying  to  get  it,  very  coolly  claimed 
that  Scotland  belonged  to  him  ;  but  this  was  a  little  too  much, 
and  the  Parliament  in  a  friendly  manner  told  him  so. 

In  the  spring  time  of  the  year  one  thousand  three  hundred 
and  three,  the  King  sent  SIR  JOHN  SEGRAVE,  whom  he  made 
Governor  of  Scotland,  with  twenty  thousand  men,  to  reduce 
the  rebels.  Sir  John  was  not  as  careful  as  he  should  have 
been,  but  encamped  at  Rosslyn,  near  Edinburgh,  with  his 
army  divided  into  three  parts.  The  Scottish  forces  saw  their 
advantage  ;  fell  on  each  part  separately  ;  defeated  each  ;  and 
killed  all  the  prisoners.  Then,  came  the  King  himself  once 


164  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

more,  as  soon  as  a  great  arm 3*  could  be  raised ;  he  passed 
through  the  whole  north  of  Scotland,  laying  waste  whatsoever 
came  in  his  way ;  and  he  took  up  his  winter  quarters  at  Dun- 
fermline.  The  Scottish  cause  now  looked  so  hopeless,  that 
Comyn  and  the  other  nobles  made  submission  and  received 
their  pardons.  Wallace  alone  stood  out.  He  was  invited  to 
surrender,  though  on  no  distinct  pledge  that  his  life  should  be 
spared  ;  but  he  still  defied  the  ireful  King,  and  lived  among 
the  steep  crags  of  the  Highland  glens,  where  the  eagles  made 
their  nests,  and  where  the  mountain  torrents  roared,  and  the 
white  snow  was  deep,  and  the  bitter  winds  blew  round  his 
unsheltered  head,  as  he  lay  through  man}'  a  pitch-dark  night 
wrapped  up  in  his  plaid.  Nothing  could  break  his  spirit ; 
nothing  could  lower  his  courage ;  nothing  could  induce  him 
to  forget  or  forgive  his  country's  wrongs.  Even  when  the 
Castle  of  Stirling,  which  had  long  held  out,  was  besieged  by 
the  King  with  every  kind  of  military  engine  then  in  use ; 
even  when  the  lead  upon  cathedral  roofs  was  taken  down  to 
help  to  make  them ;  even  when  the  King,  though  an  old  man, 
commanded  in  the  siege  as  if  he  were  a  j'outh,  being  so  re- 
solved to  conquer ;  even  when  the  brave  garrison  (then  found 
with  amazement  to  be  not  two  hundred  people,  including 
several  ladies)  were  starved  and  beaten  out  and  were  made 
to  submit  on  their  knees,  and  with  every  form  of  disgrace 
that  could  aggravate  their  sufferings  ;  even  then,  when  there 
was  not  a  ray  of  hope  in  Scotland,  William  Wallace  was  as 
proud  and  firm  as  if  he  had  beheld  the  powerful  and  relent- 
less Edward  tying  dead  at  his  feet. 

Who  betrayed  William  Wallace  in  the  end,  is  not  quite  cer- 
tain. That  he  was  betrayed — probably  by  an  attendant — is 
too  true.  He  was  taken  to  the  Castle  of  Dumbarton,  under  SIR 
JOHN  MENTEITH,  and  thence  to  London,  where  the  great  fame 
of  his  bravery  and  resolution  attracted  immense  concourses 
of  people  to  behold  him.  He  was  tried  in  Westminster  Hall, 
with  a  crown  of  laurel  on  his  head — it  is  supposed  because 
he  was  reported  to  have  said  that  he  ought  to  wear,  or  that 


EDWAKD   THE   FIRST.  165 

he  would  wear,  a  crown  there  —  and  was  found  guilty  as  a 
robber,  a  murderer,  and  a  traitor.  What  they  called  a  rob- 
ber (he  said  to  those  who  tried  him)  he  was,  because  he  had 
taken  spoil  from  the  King's  men.  What  they  called  a  mur- 
derer, he  was,  because  he  had  slain  an  insolent  Englishman. 
What  they  called  a  traitor,  he  was  not,  for  he  had  never 
sworn  allegiance  to  the  King,  and  had  ever  scorned  to  do  it. 
He  was  dragged  at  the  tails  of  horses  to  West  Smithfield, 
and  there  hanged  on  a  high  gallows,  torn  open  before  he  was 
dead,  beheaded,  and  quartered.  His  head  was  set  upon  a 
pole  on  London  Bridge,  his  right  arm  was  sent  to  Newcastle, 
his  left  arm  to  Berwick,  his  legs  to  Perth  and  Aberdeen.  But, 
if  King  Edward  had  had  his  body  cut  into  inches,  and  had 
sent  every  separate  inch  into  a  separate  town,  he  could  not 
have  dispersed  it  half  so  far  and  wide  as  his  fame.  Wallace 
will  be  remembered  in  songs  and  stories,  while  there  are  songs 
and  stories  in  the  English  tongue,  and  Scotland  will  hold  him 
dear  while  her  lakes  and  mountains  last. 

Released  from  this  dreaded  enemy,  the  King  made  a  fairer 
plan  of  Government  for  Scotland,  divided  the  offices  of  honor 
among  Scottish  gentlemen  and  English  gentlemen,  forgave 
past  offences,  and  thought,  in  his  old  age,  that  his  work  was 
done. 

But  he  deceived  himself.  Comyn  and  Bruce  conspired, 
and  made  an  appointment  to  meet  at  Dumfries,  in  the  church 
of  the  Minorites.  There  is  a  story  that  Comyn  was  false  to 
Bruce,  and  had  informed  against  him  to  the  King  ;  that  Bruce 
was  warned  of  his  danger  and  the  necessity  of  flight,  by  re- 
ceiving, one  night  as  he  sat  at  supper,  from  his  friend  the 
Earl  of  Gloucester,  twelve  pennies  and  a  pair  of  spurs  ;  that 
as  he  was  riding  angrily  to  keep  his  appointment  (through  a 
snow-storm,  with  his  horse's  shoes  reversed  that  he  might  not 
be  tracked) ,  he  met  an  evil-looking  serving  man,  a  messenger 
of  Comyn,  whom  he  killed,  and  concealed  in  whose  dress  he 
found  letters  that  proved  Comyn's  treachery.  However  this 
may  be,  they  were  likely  enough  to  quarrel  in  any  case,  being 


166  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

hot-headed  rivals  ;  and,  whatever  they  quarrelled  about,  they 
certainly  did  quarrel  in  the  church  where  they  met,  and  Bruce 
drew  his  dagger  and  stabbed  Comyn,  who  fell  upon  the  pave- 
ment. When  Bruce  came  out,  pale  and  disturbed,  the  friends 
who  were  waiting  for  him  asked  what  was  the  matter?  "  I 
think  I  have  killed  Comyn,"  said  he.  "You  only  think  so?" 
returned  one  of  them  ;  "I  will  make  sure  ! "  and  going  into 
the  church,  and  rinding  him  alive,  stabbed  him  again  and 
again.  Knowing  that  the  King  would  never  forgive  this  new 
deed  of  violence,  the  party  then  declared  Bruce  King  of  Scot- 
land :  got  him  crowned  at  Scone  —  without  the  chair ;  and 
set  up  the  rebellious  standard  once  again. 

When  the  King  heard  of  it  he  kindled  with  fiercer  anger 
than  he  had  ever  shown  yet.  He  caused  the  Prince  of  Wales 
and  two  hundred  and  seventy  of  the  young  nobility  to  be 
knighted  —  the  trees  in  the  Temple  Gardens  were  cut  down 
to  make  room  for  their  tents,  and  they  watched  their  armor 
all  night,  according  to  the  old  usage  :  some  in  the  Temple 
Church  :  some  in  Westminster  Abbe}'  —  and  at  the  public 
Feast  which  then  took  place,  he  swore,  by  Heaven,  and  by 
two  swans  covered  with  gold  network  which  his  minstrels 
placed  upon  the  table,  that  he  would  avenge  the  death  of 
Comyn,  and  would  punish  the  false  Bruce.  And  before  all 
the  company,  he  charged  the  Prince  his  son,  in  case  that  he 
should  die  before  accomplishing  his  vow,  not  to  bury  him 
until  it  was  fulfilled.  Next  morning  the  Prince  and  the  rest 
of  the  young  Knights  rode  away  to  the  Border-country  to  join 
the  English  army  ;  and  the  King,  now  weak  and  sick,  followed 
in  a  horse-litter. 

Bruce,  after  losing  a  battle  and  undergoing  man}'  dangers 
and  much  misery,  fled  to  Ireland,  where  he  lay  concealed 
through  the  winter.  That  winter,  Edward  passed  in  hunting 
down  and  executing  Bruce's  relations  and  adherents,  sparing 
neither  youth  nor  age,  and  showing  no  touch  of  pity  or  sign 
of  mercy.  In  the  following  spring,  Bruce  reappeared  and 
gained  some  victories.  In  these  frays  both  sides  were  griev- 


EDWARD   THE   FIR&T.  167 

on  sly  cruel.  For  instance  —  Brace's  two  brothers,  being 
taken  captives  desperate!}7  wounded,  were  ordered  by  the 
King  to  instant  execution.  Brace's  friend  Sir  John  Douglas, 
taking  his  own  Castle  of  Douglas  out  of  the  hands  of  an 
English  Lord,  roasted  the  dead  bodies  of  the  slaughtered 
garrison  in  a  great  fire  made  of  every  movable  within  it ; 
which  dreadful  cookery  his  men  called  the  Douglas  Larder. 
Bruce,  still  successful,  however,  drove  the  Earl  of  Pembroke 
and  the  Earl  of  Gloucester  into  the  Castle  of  Ayr  and  laid 
siege  to  it. 

The  King,  who  had  been  laid  up  all  the  winter,  but  had 
directed  the  army  from  his  sick-bed,  now  advanced  to  Car- 
lisle, and  there,  causing  the  litter  in  which  he  had  travelled 
to  be  placed  in  the  Cathedral  as  an  offering  to  Heaven, 
mounted  his  horse  once  more,  and  for  the  last  time.  He 
was  now  sixty-nine  years  old,  and  had  reigned  thirty-five 
j-ears.  He  was  so  ill,  that  in  four  days  he  could  go  no  more 
than  six  miles  ;  still,  even  at  that  pace,  he  went  on  and  reso- 
lutely kept  his  face  towards  the  Border.  At  length,  he  lay 
down  at  the  village  of  Burgh-upon-Sands  ;  and  there,  telling 
those  around  him  to  impress  upon  the  Prince  that  he  was  to 
remember  his  father's  vow,  and  was  never  to  rest  until  he 
had  thoroughly  subdued  Scotland,  he  yielded  up  his  last 
breath. 


168  A   CHILD'S   HISTOKY   OF   ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

ENGLAND    UNDER   EDWARD   THE    SECOND. 

KING  EDWARD  THE  SECOND,  the  first  Prince  of  Wales,  was 
twenty-three  years  old  when  his  father  died.  There  was  a 
certain  favorite  of  his,  a  }'oung  man  from  Gascony,  named 
PIERS  GAVESTON,  of  whom  his  father  had  so  much  disapproved 
that  he  had  ordered  him  out  of  England,  and  had  made  his 
son  swear  by  the  side  of  his  sick-bed,  never  to  bring  him 
back.  But,  the  Prince  no  sooner  found  himself  King,  than 
he  broke  his  oath,  as  so  many  other  Princes  and  Kings  did 
(they  were  far  too  ready  to  take  oaths),  and  sent  for  his  dear 
friend  immediately. 

Now,  this  same  Gaveston  was  handsome  enough,  but  was 
a  reckless,  insolent,  audacious  fellow.  He  was  detested  by 
the  proud  English  Lords  :  not  only  because  he  had  such  power 
over  the  King,  and  made  the  Court  such  a  dissipated  place, 
but,  also,  because  he  could  ride  better  than  they  at  tourna- 
ments, and  was  used,  in  his  impudence,  to  cut  veiy  bad  jokes 
on  them  ;  calling  one,  the  old  hog  ;  another,  the  stage-player ; 
another,  the  Jew  ;  another,  the  black  dog  of  Ardenne.  This 
was  as  poor  wit  as  need  be,  but  it  made  those  Lords  very 
wroth ;  and  the  surly  Earl  of  Warwick,  who  was  the  black 
dog,  swore  that  the  time  should  come  when  Piers  Gaveston 
should  feel  the  black  dog's  teeth. 

It  was  not  come  }'et,  however,  nor  did  it  seem  to  be  com- 
ing. The  King  made  him  Earl  of  Cornwall,  and  gave  him 
vast  riches ;  and,  when  the  King  went  over  to  France  to 
many  the  French  Princess,  ISABELLA,  daughter  of  PHILIP  LE 
BEL  :  who  was  said  to  be  the  most  beautiful  woman  in  the 


EDWARD   THE   SECOND.  169 

world:  he  made  Gaveston,  Regent  of  the  Kingdom.  His 
splendid  marriage-ceremony  in  the  Church  of  our  Lady  at 
Boulogne,  where  there  were  four  Kings  and  three  Queens 
present  (quite  a  pack  of  Court  Cards,  for  I  dare  say  the 
Knaves  were  not  wanting) ,  being  over,  he  seemed  to  care 
little  or  nothing  for  his  beautiful  wife ;  but  was  wild  with 
impatience  to  meet  Gaveston  again. 

When  he  landed  at  home,  he  paid  no  attention  to  anybody 
else,  but  ran  into  the  favorite's  arms  before  a  great  concourse 
of  people,  and  hugged  him,  and  kissed  him,  and  called  him 
his  brother.  At  the  coronation  which  soon  followed,  Gaves- 
ton was  the  richest  and  brightest  of  all  the  glittering  company 
there,  and  had  the  honor  of  carrying  the  crown.  This  made 
the  proud  Lords  fiercer  than  ever ;  the  people,  too,  despised 
the  favorite,  and  would  never  call  him  Earl  of  Cornwall, 
however  much  he  complained  to  the  King  and  asked  him  to 
punish  them  for  not  doing  so,  but  persisted  in  styling  him 
plain  Piers  Gaveston. 

The  Barons  were  so  unceremonious  with  the  King  in  giving 
him  to  understand  that  they  would  not  bear  his  favorite,  that 
the  King  was  obliged  to  send  him  out  of  the  country.  The 
favorite  himself  was  made  to  take  an  oath  (more  oaths  !)  that 
he  would  never  come  back,  and  the  Barons  supposed  him  to 
be  banished  in  disgrace,  until  they  heard  that  he  was  ap- 
pointed Governor  of  Ireland.  Even  this  was  not  enough  for 
the  besotted  King,  who  brought  him  home  again  in  a  }-ear's 
time,  and  not  only  disgusted  the  Court  and  the  people  by  his 
doting  folly,  but  offended  his  beautiful  wife  too,  who  never 
liked  him  afterwards. 

He  had  now  the  old  Royal  want  —  of  money  —  and  the 
Barons  had  the  new  power  of  positively  refusing  to  let  him 
raise  an}'.  He  summoned  a  Parliament  at  York ;  the  Barons 
refused  to  make  one,  while  the  favorite  was  near  him.  He 
summoned  another  Parliament  at  Westminster,  and  sent 
Gaveston  away.  Then  the  Barons  came,  completely  armed, 
and  appointed  a  committee  of  themselves  to  correct  abuses  in 


170  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

the  state  and  in  the  King's  household.  He  got  some  money 
on  these  conditions,  and  directly  set  off  with  Gaveston  to  the 
Border-country,  where  they  spent  it  in  idling  away  the  time, 
and  feasting,  while  Bruce  made  ready  to  drive  the  English 
out  of  Scotland.  For,  though  the  old  King  had  even  made 
this  poor  weak  son  of  his  swear  (as  some  say)  that  he  would 
not  bury  his  bones,  but  would  have  them  boiled  clean  in  a 
caldron,  and  carried  before  the  English  arm}'  until  Scotland 
was  entirely  subdued,  the  second  Edward  was  so  unlike  the 
first  that  Bruce  gained  strength  and  power  every  da}*. 

The  committee  of  Nobles,  after  some  months  of  delibera- 
tion, ordained  that  the  King  should  henceforth  call  a  Parlia- 
ment together,  once  every  year,  and  even  twice  if  necessary, 
instead  of  summoning  it  only  when  he  chose.  Further,  that 
Gaveston  should  once  more  be  banished,  and,  this  time,  on 
pain  of  death  if  he  ever  came  back.  The  king's  tears  were 
of  no  avail ;  he  was  obliged  to  send  his  favorite  to  Flanders. 
As  soon  as  he  had  done  so,  however,  he  dissolved  the  Par- 
liament, with  the  low  cunning  of  a  mere  fool,  and  set  off  to 
the  North  of  England,  thinking  to  get  an  army  about  him  to 
oppose  the  Nobles.  And  once  again  he  brought  Gaveston 
home,  and  heaped  upon  him  all  the  riches  and  titles  of  which 
the  Barons  had  deprived  him. 

The  Lords  saw,  now,  that  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to 
put  the  favorite  to  death.  They  could  have  done  so,  legally, 
according  to  the  terms  of  his  banishment ;  but  they  did  so,  I 
am  sorry  to  sa}r,  in  a  shabby  manner.  Led  by  the  Earl  of 
Lancaster,  the  King's  cousin,  they  first  of  all  attacked  the 
King  and  Gaveston  at  Newcastle.  They  had  time  to  escape 
by  sea,  and  the  mean  King,  having  his  precious  Gaveston 
with  him,  was  quite  content  to  leave  his  lovely  wife  behind. 
When  they  were  comparatively  safe,  they  separated ;  the 
King  went  to  York  to  collect  a  force  of  soldiers ;  and  the 
favorite  shut  himself  up,  in  the  meantime,  in  Scarborough 
Castle  overlooking  the  sea.  This  was  what  the  Barons 
wanted.  They  knew  that  the  Castle  could  not  hold  out; 


EDWARD   THE   SECOND.  171 

the}'  attacked  it,  and  made  Gaveston  surrender.  He  deliv- 
ered himself  up  to  the  Earl  of  Pembroke  —  that  Lord  whom 
he  had  called  the  Jew  —  on  the  Earl's  pledging  his  faith  and 
knightly  word,  that  no  harm  should  happen  to  him  and  no 
violence  be  done  him. 

Now,  it  was  agreed  with  Gaveston  that  he  should  be  taken 
to  the  Castle  of  Wallingford,  and  there  kept  in  honorable 
custody.  They  travelled  as  far  as  Dedington,  near  Banbury, 
where,  in  the  Castle  of  that  place,  they  stopped  for  a  night 
to  rest.  Whether  the  Earl  of  Pembroke  left  his  prisoner 
there,  knowing  what  would  happen,  or  really  left  him  think- 
ing no  harm,  and  only  going  (as  he  pretended)  to  visit  his 
wife,  the  Countess,  who  was  in  the  neighborhood,  is  no  great 
matter  now ;  in  any  case,  he  was  bound  as  an  honorable  gen- 
tleman to  protect  his  prisoner,  and  he  did  not  do  it.  In  the 
morning,  while  the  favorite  was  yet  in  bed,  he  was  required 
to  dress  himself  and  come  down  into  the  court-yard.  He  did 
so  without  an}1  mistrust,  but  started  and  turned  pale  when  he 
found  it  full  of  strange  armed  men.  "  I  think  you  know 
me?"  said  their  leader,  also  armed  from  head  to  foot.  "I 
am  the  black  dog  of  Ardenne  !  " 

The  time  was  come  when  Piers  Gaveston  was  to  feel  the 
black  dog's  teeth  indeed.  The}-  set  him  on  a  mule,  and  car- 
ried him,  in  mock  state  and  with  military  music,  to  the  black 
dog's  kennel  —  Warwick  Castle  —  where  a  hasty  council, 
composed  of  some  great  noblemen,  considered  what  should 
be  done  with  him.  Some  were  for  sparing  him,  but  one  loud 
voice  —  it  was  the  black  dog's  bark,  I  daresay  —  sounded 
through  the  Castle  Hall,  uttering  these  words:  "You  have 
the  fox  in  your  power.  Let  him  go  now,  and  you  must  hunt 
him  again." 

They  sentenced  him  to  death.  He  threw  himself  at  the 
feet  of  the  Earl  of  Lancaster  —  the  old  hog  —  but  the  old 
hog  was  as  savage  as  the  dog.  He  was  taken  out  upon  the 
pleasant  road,  leading  from  Warwick  to  Coventry,  where  the 
beautiful  river  Avon,  by  which,  long  afterwards,  WILLIAM 


172  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

SHAKESPEARE  was  born  and  now  lies  buried,  sparkled  in  the 
bright  landscape  of  the  beautiful  May-day  ;  and  there  they 
struck  off  his  wretched  head,  and  .stained  the  dust  with  his 
blood. 

When  the  King  heard  of  this  black  deed,  in  his  grief  and 
rage  he  denounced  relentless  war  against  his  Barons,  and 
both  sides  were  in  arras  for  half  a  year.  But,  it  then  became 
necessary  for  them  to  join  their  forces  against  Bruce,  who 
had  used  the  time  well  while  they  were  divided,  and  had 
now  a  great  power  in  Scotland. 

Intelligence  was  brought  that  Bruce  was  then  besieging 
Stirling  Castle,  and  that  the  Governor  had  been  obliged  to 
pledge  himself  to  surrender  it,  unless  he  should  be  relieved 
before  a  certain  day.  Hereupon,  the  King  ordered  the 
nobles  and  their  fighting-men  to  meet  him  at  Berwick  ;  but, 
the  nobles  cared  so  little  for  the  King,  and  so  neglected  the 
summons,  and  lost  time,  that  only  on  the  da}- before  that 
appointed  for  the  surrender,  did  the  King  find  himself  at 
Stirling,  and  even  then  with  a  smaller  force  than  he  had 
expected.  However,  he  had,  altogether,  a  hundred  thousand 
men,  and  Bruce  had  not  more  than  forty  thousand ;  but 
Bruce's  army  was  strongly  posted  in  three  square  columns, 
on  the  ground  lying  between  the  Burn  or  Brook  of  Bannock 
and  the  walls  of  Stirling  Castle. 

On  the  very  evening,  when  the  King  came  up,  Bruce  did  a 
brave  act  that  encouraged  his  men.  He  was  seen  by  a  cer- 
tain HENRY  DE  BOHUN,  an  English  Knight,  riding  about  be- 
fore his  army  on  a  little  horse,  with  a  light  battle-axe  in  his 
hand,  and  a  crown  of  gold  on  his  head.  This  English 
Knight,  who  was  mounted  on  a  strong  war-horse,  cased  in 
steel,  strongly  armed,  and  able  (as  he  thought)  to  overthrow 
Bruce  by  crushing  him  with  his  mere  weight,  set  spurs  to  his 
great  charger,  rode  on  him,  and  made  a  thrust  at  him  with 
his  heavy  spear.  Bruce  parried  the  thrust,  and  with  one 
blow  of  his  battle-axe  split  his  skull. 

The  Scottish  men  did  not  forget  this,  next  day,  when  the 


SHAKESPEARE'S  TOMB, 


EDWARD   THE   SECOND. 


173 


battle  raged.  RANDOLPH,  Brace's  valiant  Nephew,  rode, 
with  the  small  body  of  men  he  commanded,  into  such  a  host 
of  the  English,  all  shining  in  polished  armor  in  the  sunlight, 
that  they  seemed  to  be  swallowed  up  and  lost,  as  if  they  had 
plunged  into  the  sea.  But,  they  fought  so  well,  and  did 
such  dreadful  execution,  that  the  English  staggered.  Then 
came  Bruce  himself  upon  them,  with  all  the  rest  of  his  arm}'. 
While  they  were  thus  hard  pressed  and  amazed,  there  ap- 
peared upon  the  hills  what  they  supposed  to  be  a  new  Scot- 
tish army,  but  what  were  really  only  the  camp  followers,  in 
number  fifteen  thousand :  whom  Bruce  had  taught  to  show 
themselves  at  that  place  and  time.  The  Earl  of  Gloucester, 
commanding  the  English  horse,  made  a  last  rush  to  change 
the  fortune  of  the  day ;  but  Bruce  (like  Jack  the  Giant-killer 
in  the  story)  had  had  pits  dug  in  the  ground,  and  covered 
over  with  turfs  and  stakes.  Into  these,  as  they  gave  way 
beneath  the  weight  of  the  horses,  riders  and  horses  rolled  by 
hundreds.  The  English  were  completely  routed ;  all  their 
treasure,  stores,  and  engines,  were  taken  by  the  Scottish 
men ;  so  mairy  wagons  and  other  wheeled  vehicles  were 
seized,  that  it  is  related  that  they  would  have  reached,  if 
they  had  been  drawn  out  in  a  line,  one  hundred  and  eighty 
miles.  The  fortunes  of  Scotland  were,  for  the  time,  com- 
pletely changed ;  and  never  was  a  battle  won,  more  famous 
upon  Scottish  ground,  than  this  great  battle  of  BANNOCKBURN. 

Plague  and  famine  succeeded  in  England  ;  and  still  the 
powerless  king  and  his  disdainful  Lords  were  always  in  con- 
tention. Some  of  the  turbulent  chiefs  of  Ireland  made  pro- 
posals to  Bruce  to  accept  the  rule  of  that  country.  He  sent 
his  brother  Edward  to  them,  who  was  crowned  King  of  Ire- 
land. He  afterwards  went  himself  to  help  his  brother  in  his 
Irish  wars,  but  his  brother  was  defeated  in  the  end  and 
killed.  Robert  Bruce,  returning  to  Scotland,  still  increased 
his  strength  there. 

As  the  King's  ruin  had  begun  in  a  favorite,  so  it  seemed 
likely  to  end  in  one.  He  was  too  poor  a  creature  to  rely  at 


174  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

all  upon  himself;  and  his  new  favorite  was  one  HUGH  LE 
DESPENSER,  the  son  of  a  gentleman  of  ancient  family.  Hugh 
was  handsome  and  brave,  but  he  was  the  favorite  of  a  weak 
King,  whom  no  man  cared  a  rush  for,  and  that  was  a  dan- 
gerous place  to  hold.  The  Nobles  leagued  against  him,  be- 
cause the  King  liked  him ;  and  they  lay  in  wait,  both  for  his 
ruin  and  his  father's.  Now,  the  King  had  married  him  to  the 
daughter  of  the  late  Earl  of  Gloucester,  and  had  given  both 
him  and  his  father  great  possessions  in  Wales.  In  their 
endeavors  to  extend  these,  they  gave  violent  offence  to  an 
angry  Welsh  gentleman,  named  JOHN  DE  MOWBRAY,  and  to 
divers  other  angry  Welsh  gentlemen,  who  resorted  to  arms, 
took  their  castles,  and  seized  their  estates.  The  Earl  of 
Lancaster  had  first  placed  the  favorite  (who  was  a  poor  rela- 
tion of  his  own)  at  Court,  and  he  considered  his  own  dignity 
offended  by  the  preference  he  received  and  the  honors  he 
acquired ;  so  he,  and  the  Barons  who  were  his  friends,  joined 
the  Welshmen,  marched  on  London,  and  sent  a  message  to 
the  King  demanding  to  have  the  favorite  and  his  father  ban- 
ished. At  first  the  King  unaccountably  took  it  into  his  head 
to  be  spirited,  and  to  send  them  a  bold  reply ;  but  when  they 
quartered  themselves  around  Holborn  and  Clerkenwell,  and 
went  down,  armed,  to  the  Parliament  at  Westminster,  he 
gave  way,  and  complied  with  their  demands. 

His  turn  of  triumph  came  sooner  than  he  expected.  It 
arose  out  of  an  accidental  circumstance.  The  beautiful 
Queen  happening  to  be  travelling,  came  one  night  to  one  of 
the  royal  castles,  and  demanded  to  be  lodged  and  entertained 
there  until  morning.  The  governor  of  this  castle,  who  was 
one  of  the  enraged  lords,  was  away,  and  in  his  absence,  his 
wife  refused  admission  to  the  Queen ;  a  scuffle  took  place 
among  the  common  men  on  either  side,  and  some  of  the  royal 
attendants  were  killed.  The  people,  who  cared  nothing  for 
the  King,  were  very  angry  that  their  beautiful  Queen  should 
be  thus  rudely  treated  in  her  own  dominions  ;  and  the  King, 
taking  advantage  of  this  feeling,  besieged  the  castle,  took  H 


EDWARD   THE   SECOND.  175 

and  then  called  the  two  Despensers  home.  Upon  this,  the 
confederate  lords  and  the  Welshmen  went  over  to  Bruce. 
The  King  encountered  them  at  Boroughb ridge,  gained  the 
victory,  and  took  a  number  of  distinguished  prisoners  ;  among 
them  the  Earl  of  Lancaster,  now  an  old  man,  upon  whose 
destruction  he  was  resolved.  This  Earl  was  taken  to  his 
own  castle  of  Pontefract,  and  there  tried  and  found  guilty  by 
an  unfair  court  appointed  for  the  purpose  ;  he  was  not  even 
allowed  to  speak  in  his  own  defence.  He  was  insulted, 
pelted,  mounted  on  a  starved  pony  without  saddle  or  bridle, 
carried  out,  and  beheaded.  Eight-and-twenty  knights  were 
hanged,  drawn,  and  quartered.  When  the  King  had  de- 
spatched this  bloody  work,  and  had  made  a  fresh  and  a  long 
truce  with  Bruce,  he  took  the  Despensers  into  greater  favor 
than  ever,  and  made  the  father  Earl  of  Winchester. 

One  prisoner,  and  an  important  one,  who  was  taken  at 
Boroughbridge,  made  his  escape,  however,  and  turned  the 
tide  against  the  King.  This  was  ROGER  MORTIMER,  always 
resolutely  opposed  to  him,  who  was  sentenced  to  death,  and 
placed  for  safe  custody  in  the  Tower  of  London.  He  treated 
his  guards  to  a  quantity  of  wine  into  which  he  had  put  a 
sleeping  potion  ;  and  when  they  were  insensible,  broke  out  of 
his  dungeon,  got  into  a  kitchen,  climbed  up  the  chimne}',  let 
himself  down  from  the  roof  of  the  building  with  a  rope-ladder, 
passed  the  sentries,  got  down  to  the  river,  and  made  away  in 
a  boat  to  where  servants  and  horses  were  waiting  for  him. 
He  finally  escaped  to  France,  where  CHARLES  LE  BEL,  the 
brother  of  the  beautiful  Queen,  was  King.  Charles  sought  to 
quarrel  with  the  King  of  England,  on  pretence  of  his  not 
having  come  to  do  him  homage  at  his  coronation.  It  was 
proposed  that  the  beautiful  Queen  should  go  over  to  arrange 
the  dispute ;  she  went,  and  wrote  home  to  the  King,  that  as 
he  was  sick,  and  could  not  come  to  France  himself,  perhaps 
it  would  be  better  to  send  over  the  young  Prince,  their  son, 
who  was  only  twelve  years  old,  who  could  do  homage  to  her 
brother  in  his  stead,  and  in  whose  company  she  would  imme- 


176  A   CHILD'S   HISTOEY   OF  ENGLAND. 

diately  return.  The  King  sent  him :  but,  both  he  and  the 
Queen  remained  at  the  French  Court,  and  Roger  Mortimer 
became  the  Queen's  lover. 

When  the  King  wrote,  again  and  again,  to  the  Queen  to 
come  home,  she  did  not  repby  that  she  despised  him  too  much 
to  live  with  him  any  more  (which  was  the  truth),  but  said 
she  was  afraid  of  the  two  Despensers.  In  short,  her  design 
was  to  overthrow  the  favorites'  power,  and  the  King's  power, 
such  as  it  was,  and  invade  England.  Having  obtained  a 
French  force  of  two  thousand  men,  and  being  joined  b}'  all 
the  English  exiles  then  in  France,  she  landed,  within  a  year, 
at  Orewell,  in  Suffolk,  where  she  was  immediately  joined  by 
the  Earls  of  Kent  and  Norfolk,  the  King's  two  brothers  ;  by 
other  powerful  noblemen  ;  and  lastl}',  by  the  first  English 
general  who  was  despatched  to  check  her :  who  went  over  to 
her  with  all  his  men.  The  people  of  London,  receiving  these 
tidings,  would  do  nothing  for  the  King,  but  broke  open  the 
Tower,  let  out  all  his  prisoners,  and  threw  up  their  caps  and 
hurrahed  for  the  beautiful  Queen. 

The  King,  with  his  two  favorites,  fled  to  Bristol,  where  he 
left  old  Despenser  in  charge  of  the  town  and  castle,  while 
he  went  on  with  the  son  to  Wales.  The  Bristol  men  being 
opposed  to  the  King,  and  it  being  impossible  to  hold  the  town 
with  enemies  ever}'where  within  the  walls,  Despenser  yielded 
it  up  on  the  third  da}',  and  was  instantly  brought  to  trial  for 
having  traitorously  influenced  what  was  called  "the  King's 
mind  "  —  though  I  doubt  if  the  King  ever  had  any.  He  was 
a  venerable  old  man,  upwards  of  ninety  years  of  age,  but  his 
age  gained  no  respect  or  merc}\  He  was  hanged,  torn  open 
while  he  was  yet  alive,  cut  up  into  pieces,  and  thrown  to  the 
dogs.  His  son  was  soon  taken,  tried  at  Hereford  before  the 
same  judge  on  a  long  series  of  foolish  charges,  found  guilty, 
and  hanged  upon  a  gallows  fifty  feet  high,  with  a  chap  let  of 
nettles  round  his  head.  His  poor  old  father  and  he  were  in- 
nocent enough  of  any  worse  crimes  than  the  crime  of  having 
been  friends  of  a  King,  on  whom,  as  a  mere  man,  they  would 


EDWARD   THE   SECOND.  177 

never  have  deigned  to  cast  a  favorable  look.  It  is  a  bad 
crime,  I  know,  and  leads  to  worse  ;  but,  many  lords  and  gen- 
tlemen —  I  even  think  some  ladies,  too,  if  I  recollect  right  — 
have  committed  it  in  England,  who  have  neither  been  given 
to  the  dogs,  nor  hanged  up  fifty  feet  high. 

The  wretched  King  was  running  here  and  there,  all  this 
time,  and  never  getting  anywhere  in  particular,  until  he  gave 
himself  up,  and  was  taken  off  to  Kenilworth  Castle.  When 
he  was  safely  lodged  there,  the  Queen  went  to  London  and 
met  the  Parliament.  And  the  Bishop  of  Hereford,  who  was 
the  most  skilful  of  her  friends,  said,  What  was  to  be  done 
now?  Here  was  an  imbecile,  indolent,  miserable  King  upon 
the  throne  ;  wouldn't  it  be  better  to  take  him  off,  and  put  his 
son  there  instead?  I  don't  know  whether  the  Queen  really 
pitied  him  at  this  pass,  but  she  began  to  cry  ;  so,  the  Bishop 
said,  Well,  my  Lords  and  Gentlemen,  what  do  you  think, 
upon  the  whole,  of  sending  down  to  Kenilworth,  and  seeing  if 
His  Majesty  (God  bless  him,  and  forbid  we  should  depose 
him  !)  won't  resign? 

My  Lords  and  Gentlemen  thought  it  a  good  notion,  so  a 

deputation  of  them  went  down  to  Kenilworth  ;  and  there  the 

King  came  into  the  great  hall  of  the  Castle,  commonly  dressed 

in  a  poor  black  gown ;  and  when  he  saw  a  certain  bishop 

among  them,  fell  down,  poor  feeble-headed  man,  and  made  a 

wretched  spectacle  of  himself.     Somebocly  lifted  him  up,  and 

len  SIR  WILLIAM  TRUSSEL,  the  Speaker  of  the  House  of 

Commons,  almost  frightened  him  to  death  by  making  him  a 

tremendous  speech  to  the  effect  that  he  was  no  longer  a  King, 

and   that   everybody  renounced   allegiance   to   him.      After 

which,  SIR  THOMAS  BLOUNT,  the  Steward  of  the  Household, 

nearly  finished  him,  by  coming  forward   and   breaking   his 

rhite  wand  —  which  was  a  ceremony  only  performed  at  a 

[ing's  death.     Being  asked  in  this  pressing  manner  what  he 

thought  of  resigning,  the  King  said  he  thought  it  was  the 

best  thing  he  could  do.     So  he  did  it,  and  they  proclaimed 

his  son  next  day.  ^ 

12 


178  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

I  wish  I  could  close  his  history  by  saj-ing  that  he  lived  a 
harmless  life  in  the  Castle  and  the  Castle  gardens  at  Kenil- 
worth  many  years  —  that  he  had  a  favorite,  and  plenty  to  eat 
and  drink  —  and,  having  that,  wanted  nothing.  But  he  was 
shamefully  humiliated.  He  was  outraged,  and  slighted,  and 
had  dirty  water  from  ditches  given  him  to  shave  with,  and 
wept  and  said  he  would  have  clean  warm  water,  and  was  al- 
together very  miserable.  He  was  moved  from  this  castle  to 
that  castle,  and  from  that  castle  to  the  other  castle,  because 
this  lord  or  that  lord,  or  the  other  lord,  was  too  kind  to  him : 
until  at  last  he  came  to  Berkeley  Castle,  near  the  River  Sev- 
ern, where  (the  Lord  Berkeley  being  then  ill  and  absent)  he 
fell  into  the  hands  of  two  black  ruffians,  called  THOMAS 
GOURNAY  and  WILLIAM  OGLE. 

One  night  —  it  was  the  night  of  September  the  twenty-first, 
one  thousand  three  hundred  and  twenty-seven  —  dreadful 
screams  were  heard,  b}'  the  startled  people  in  the  neighboring 
town,  ringing  through  the  thick  walls  of  the  Castle,  and  the 
dark  deep  night ;  and  they  said,  as  they  were  thus  horribly 
awakened  from  their  sleep,  "  May  Heaven  be  merciful  to  the 
King  ;  for  those  cries  forebode  that  no  good  is  being  done  to 
him  in  his  dismal  prison  !  "  Next  morning  he  was  dead  — 
not  bruised,  or  stabbed,  or  marked  upon  the  body,  but  much 
distorted  in  the  face ;  and  it  was  whispered  afterwards,  that 
those  two  villains,  Gournay  and  Ogle,  had  burned  up  his  in- 
side with  a  red-hot  iron. 

If  you  ever  come  near  Gloucester,  and  see  the  centre  tower 
of  its  beautiful  Cathedral,  with  its  four  rich  pinnacles,  rising 
lightly  in  the  air,  you  may  remember  that  the  wretched  Ed- 
ward the  Second  was  buried  in  the  old  abbey  of  that  ancient 
city,  at  forty-three  years  old,  after  being  for  nineteen  years 
and  a  half  a  perfectly  incapable  King. 


EDWARD   THE  THIRD.  179 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

ENGLAND    UNDER   EDWARD   THE    THIRD. 

ROGER  MORTIMER,  the  Queen's  lover  (who  escaped  to 
France  in  the  last  chapter),  was  far  from  profiting  by  the 
examples  he  had  had  of  the  fate  of  favorites.  Having, 
through  the  Queen's  influence,  come  into  possession  of  the 
estates  of  the  two  Despensers,  he  became  extremely  proud 
and  ambitious,  and  sought  to  be  the  real  ruler  of  England. 
The  young  King,  who  was  crowned  at  fourteen  years  of  age 
with  all  the  usual  solemnities,  resolved  not  to  bear  this,  and 
soon  pursued  Mortimer  to  his  ruin. 

The  people  themselves  were  not  fond  of  Mortimer  —  first, 
because  he  was  a  royal  favorite ;  secondly,  because  he  was 
supposed  to  have  helped  to  make  a  peace  with  Scotland 
which  now  took  place,  and  in  virtue  of  which  the  young 
King's  sister  Joan,  only  seven  years  old,  was  promised  in 
marriage  to  David,  the  son  and  heir  of  Robert  Bruce,  who 
was  only  five  years  old.  The  nobles  hated  Mortimer  because 
of  his  pride,  riches,  and  power.  They  went  so  far  as  to 
take  up  arms  against  him  :  but  were  obliged  to  submit.  The 
Earl  of  Kent,  one  of  those  who  did  so,  but  who  afterwards 
went  over  to  Mortimer  and  the  Queen,  was  made  an  exam- 
ple of  in  the  following  cruel  manner :  — 

He  seems  to  have  been  anything  but  a  wise  old  earl ;  and 
he  was  persuaded  by  the  agents  of  the  favorite  and  the  Queen, 
that  poor  King  Edward  the  Second  was  not  really  dead  ;  and 
thus  was  betrayed  into  writing  letters  favoring  his  rightful 
claim  to  the  throne.  This  was  made  out  to  be  high  treason, 
and  he  was  tried,  found  guilty,  and  sentenced  to  be  executed. 


180  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

They  took  the  poor  old  lord  outside  the  town  of  Winchester, 
and  there  kept  him  waiting  some  three  or  four  hours  until 
they  could  find  somebody  to  cut  off  his  head.  At  last,  a 
convict  said  he  would  do  it,  if  the  government  would  pardon 
him  in  return ;  and  they  gave  him  the  pardon ;  and  at  one 
blow  he  put  the  Earl  of  Kent  out  of  his  last  suspense. 

While  the  Queen  was  in  France,  she  had  found  a  lovely 
and  good  young  lad}-,  named  Philippa,  who  she  thought 
would  make  an  excellent  wife  for  her  son.  The  young  King 
married  this  lady,  soon  after  he  came  to  the  throne  ;  and  her 
first  child  Edward,  Prince  of  Wales,  afterwards  became  cele- 
brated, as  we  shall  presently  see,  under  the  famous  title  of 
EDWARD  THE  BLACK  PRINCE. 

The  young  King,  thinking  the  time  ripe  for  the  downfall 
of  Mortimer,  took  counsel  with  Lord  Montacute  how  he 
should  proceed.  A  Parliament  was  going  to  be  held  at 
Nottingham,  and  that  lord  recommended  that  the  favorite 
should  be  seized  by  night  in  Nottingham  Castle,  where  he 
was  sure  to  be.  Now  this,  like  many  other  things,  was 
more  easily  said  than  done ;  because  to  guard  against  treach- 
ery, the  great  gates  of  the  Castle  were  locked  every  night, 
and  the  great  keys  were  carried  up-stairs  to  the  Queen,  who 
laid  them  under  her  own  pillow.  But  the  Castle  had  a  gov- 
ernor, and  the  governor  being  Lord  Montacute's  friend,  con- 
fided to  him  how  he  knew  of  a  secret  passage  under-ground, 
hidden  from  observation  by  the  weeds  and  brambles  with  which 
it  was  overgrown  ;  and  how,  through  that  passage,  the  conspir- 
ators might  enter  in  the  dead  of  the  night,  and  go  straight 
to  Mortimer's  room.  Accordingly,  upon  a  certain  dark  night, 
at  midnight,  they  made  their  way  through  this  dismal  place : 
startling  the  rats,  and  frightening  the  owls  and  bats  :  and 
came  safely  to  the  bottom  of  the  main  tower  of  the  Castle, 
where  the  King  met  them,  and  took  them  up  a  profoundly- 
dark  staircase  in  a  deep  silence.  They  soon  heard  the  voice 
of  Mortimer  in  council  with  some  friends  ;  and  bursting  into 
the  room  with  a  sudden  noise,  took  him  prisoner.  The  Queen 


EDWARD   THE   TRIED.  181 

cried  out  from  her  bed-chamber,  "Oh,  my  sweet  son,  my 
dear  son,  spare  my  gentle  Mortimer ! "  They  carried  him 
off,  however ;  and,  before  the  next  Parliament,  accused  him 
of  having  made  differences  between  the  young  King  and  his 
mother,  and  of  having  brought  about  the  death  of  the  Earl 
of  Kent,  and  even  of  the  late  King  ;  for,  as  you  know  by  this 
time,  when  they  wanted  to  get  rid  of  a  man  in  those  old 
daj-s,  they  were  not  very  particular  of  what  they  accused 
him.  Mortimer  was  found  guilty  of  all  this,  and  was  sen- 
tenced to  be  hanged  at  Tyburn.  The  King  shut  his  mother 
up  in  genteel  confinement,  where  she  passed  the  rest  of  her 
life  ;  and  now  he  became  King  in  earnest. 

The  first  effort  he  made  was  to  conquer  Scotland.  The 
English  lords  who  had  lands  in  Scotland,  finding  that  their 
rights  were  not  respected  under  the  late  peace,  made  war  on 
their  own  account:  choosing  for  their  general,  Edward,  the 
son  of  John  Baliol,  who  made  such  a  vigorous  fight,  that  in 
less  than  two  months  he  won  the  whole  Scottish  Kingdom. 
He  was  joined,  when  thus  triumphant,  by  the  King  and  Par- 
liament ;  and  he  and  the  King  in  person  besieged  the  Scot- 
tish forces  in  Berwick.  The  whole  Scottish  army  coming 
to  the  assistance  of  their  countrymen,  such  a  furious  battle 
ensued,  that  thirty  thousand  men  are  said  to  have  been  killed 
in  it.  Baliol  was  then  crowned  King  of  Scotland,  doing 
homage  to  the  King  of  England  ;  but  little  came  of  his  suc- 
cesses after  all,  for  the  Scottish  men  rose  against  him,  within 
no  very  long  time,  and  David  Bruce  came  back  within  ten 
years  and  took  his  kingdom. 

France  was  a  far  richer  country  than  Scotland,  and  the 
King  had  a  much  greater  mind  to  conquer  it.  So,  he  let 
Scotland  alone,  and  pretended  that  he  had  a  claim  to  the 
French  throne  in  right  of  his  mother.  He  had,  in  reality,  no 
claim  at  all ;  but  that  mattered  little  in  those  times.  He 
brought  over  to  his  cause  many  little  princes  and  sovereigns, 
and  even  courted  the  alliance  of  the  people  of  Flanders  —  a 
busy,  working  communit}',  who  had  very  small  respect  for 


182  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

kings,  and  whose  head  man  was  a  brewer.  With  such  forces 
as  he  raised  by  these  means,  Edward  invaded  France ;  but 
he  did  little  by  that,  except  run  into  debt  in  carrying  on  the 
war  to  the  extent  of  three  hundred  thousand  pounds.  The 
next  year  he  did  better;  gaining  a  great  sea-fight  in  the 
harbor  of  Sltrys.  This  success,  however,  was  very  short- 
lived, for  the  Flemings  took  fright  at  the  siege  of  Saint  Omer 
and  ran  away,  leaving  their  weapons  and  baggage  behind 
them.  Philip,  the  French  King,  coming  up  with  his  army, 
and  Edward  being  very  anxious  to  decide  the  war,  proposed 
to  settle  the  difference  by  single  combat  with  him,  or  by  a 
fight  of  one  hundred  knights  on  each  side.  The  French  King 
said,  he  thanked  him ;  but  being  very  well  as  he  was,  he 
would  rather  not.  So,  after  some  skirmishing  and  talking, 
a  short  peace  was  made. 

It  was  soon  broken  by  King  Edward's  favoring  the  cause 
of  John,  Earl  of  Montford  ;  a  French  nobleman,  who  assert- 
ed a  claim  of  his  own  against  the  French  King,  and  offered 
to  do  homage  to  England  for  the  Crown  of  France,  if  he 
could  obtain  it  through  England's  help.  This  French  lord, 
himself,  was  soon  defeated  by  the  French  King's  son,  and 
shut  up  in  a  tower  in  Paris  ;  but  his  wife,  a  courageous  and 
beautiful  woman,  who  is  said  to  have  had  the  courage  of  a 
roan,  and  the  heart  of  a  lion,  assembled  the  people  of  Brit- 
tany, where  she  then  was ;  and,  showing  them  her  infant 
son,  made  many  pathetic  entreaties  to  them  not  to  desert 
her  and  their  young  Lord.  They  took  fire  at  this  appeal,  and 
rallied  round  her  in  the  strong  castle  of  Hennebon.  Here 
she  was  not  only  besieged  without  by  the  French  under 
Charles  de  Blois,  but  was  endangered  within  by  a  dreary  old 
bishop,  who  was  always  representing  to  the  people  what 
horrors  they  must  undergo  if  they  were  faithful  —  first  from 
famine,  and  afterwards  from  fire  and  sword.  But  this  noble 
lad\",  whose  heart  never  failed  her,  encouraged  her  soldiers 
by  her  own  example ;  went  from  post  to  post  like  a  great 
general ;  even  mounted  on  horseback  fully  armed,  and,  issu- 


EDWARD   THE   THIRD.  183 

ing  from  the  castle  by  a  by-path,  fell  upon  the  French  camp, 
set  fire  to  the  tents,  and  threw  the  whole  force  into  disorder. 
This  done,  she  got  safely  back  to  Hennebon  again,  and  was 
received  with  loud  shouts  of  joy  by  the  defenders  of  the 
castle,  who  had  given  her  up  for  lost.  As  they  were  now 
very  short  of  provisions,  however,  and  as  they  could  not 
dine  off  enthusiasm,  and  as  the  old  bishop  was  always  say- 
ing, ' '  I  told  3'ou  what  it  would  come  to  ! "  they  began  to 
lose  heart,  and  to  talk  of  yielding  the  castle  up.  The  brave 
Countess  retiring  to  an  upper  room  and  looking  with 
great  grief  out  to  sea,  where  she  expected  relief  from  Eng- 
land, saw,  at  this  very  time,  the  English  ships  in  the  distance, 
and  was  relieved  and  rescued !  Sir  Walter  Manning,  the 
English  commander,  so  admired  her  courage,  that,  being  come 
into  the  castle  with  the  English  knights,  and  having  made  a 
feast  there,  he  assaulted  the  French,  by  way  of  dessert,  and 
beat  them  off  triumphantly.  Then  he  and  the  knights  came 
back  to  the  castle  with  great  joy ;  and  the  Countess  who 
had  watched  them  from  a  high  tower,  thanked  them  with  all 
her  heart,  and  kissed  them  every  one. 

This  noble  lady  distinguished  herself  afterwards  in  a  sea- 
fight  with  the  French  off  Guernsey,  when  she  was  on  her  way 
to  England  to  ask  for  more  troops.  Her  great  spirit  roused 
another  lady,  the  wife  of  another  French  lord  (whom  the 
French  King  very  barbarous!}'  murdered) ,  to  distinguish  her- 
self scarcely  less.  The  time  was  fast  coming,  however,  when 
Edward,  Prince  of  Wales,  was  to  be  the  great  star  of  this 
French  and  English  war. 

It  was  in  the  month  of  July,  in  the  year  one  thousand 
three  hundred  and  forty-six,  when  the  King  embarked  at 
Southampton  for  France,  with  an  army  of  about  thirty  thou- 
sand men  in  all,  attended  by  the  Prince  of  Wales  and  by 
several  of  the  chief  nobles.  He  landed  at  La  Hogue  in 
Normand}' ;  and,  burning  and  destro}'ing  as  he  went,  accord- 
ing to  custom,  advanced  up  the  left  bank  of  the  River  Seine, 
and  fired  the  small  towns  even  close  to  Paris ;  but,  being 


184  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

watched  from  the  right  bank  of  the  river  by  the  French  King 
and  all  his  arnty,  it  came  to  this  at  last,  that  Edward  found 
himself,  on  Saturday  the  twenty-sixth  of  August,  one  thou- 
sand three  hundred  and  forty-six,  on  a  rising  ground  behind 
the  little  French  village  of  Crecy,  face  to  face  with  the 
French  King's  force.  And,  although  the  French  King  had 
an  enormous  army  —  in  number  more  than  eight  times  his  — 
he  there  resolved  to  beat  him  or  be  beaten. 

The  3Toung  Prince,  assisted  by  the  Earl  of  Oxford  and  the 
Earl  of  Warwick,  led  the  first  division  of  the  English  army  ; 
two  other  great  Earls  led  the  second  ;  and  the  King,  the  third. 
When  the  morning  dawned,  the  King  received  the  sacrament, 
and  heard  prayers,  and  then,  mounted  on  horseback  with  a 
white  wand  in  his  hand,  rode  from  company  to  company,  and 
rank  to  rank,  cheering  and  encouraging  both  officers  and  men. 
Then  the  whole  army  breakfasted,  each  man  sitting  on  the 
ground  where  he  had  stood  ;  and  then  they  remained  quietly 
on  the  ground  with  their  weapons  ready. 

Up  came  the  French  King  with  all  his  great  force.  It  was 
dark  and  angry  weather ;  there  was  an  eclipse  of  the  sun ; 
there  was  a  thunder-storm,  accompanied  with  tremendous 
rain  ;  the  frightened  birds  flew  screaming  above  the  soldiers' 
heads.  A  certain  captain  in  the  French  army  advised  the 
French  King,  who  was  by  no  means  cheerful,  not  to  begin 
the  battle  until  the  morrow.  The  King,  taking  this  advice, 
gave  the  word  to  halt.  But,  those  behind  not  understanding 
it,  or  desiring  to  be  foremost  with  the  rest,  came  pressing  on. 
The  roads  for  a  great  distance  were  covered  with  this  immense 
army,  and  with  the  common  people  from  the  villages,  who 
were  flourishing  their  rude  weapons,  and  making  a  great  noise. 
Owing  to  these  circumstances,  the  French  army  advanced  in 
the  greatest  confusion  ;  every  French  lord  doing  what  he  liked 
with  his  own  men,  and  putting  out  the  men  of  every  other 
French  lord. 

Now,  their  King  relied  strongly  upon  a  great  body  of  cross- 
bowmen  from  Genoa ;  and  these  he  ordered  to  the  front  to 


EDWARD   THE   THIRD.  185 

begin  the  battle,  on  finding  that  he  could  not  stop  it.  They 
shouted  once,  they  shouted  twice,  the}7  shouted  three  times,  to 
alarm  the  English  archers ;  but,  the  English  would  have 
heard  them  shout  three  thousand  times  and  would  have  never 
moved.  At  last  the  cross-bowmen  went  forward  a  little,  and 
began  to  discharge  their  bolts  ;  upon  which,  the  English  let  fly 
such  a  hail  of  arrows,  that  the  Genoese  speedily  made  off —  for 
their  cross-bows,  besides  being  heavy  to  carry,  required  to  be 
wound  up  with  a  handle,  and  consequently  took  time  to  re- 
load ;  the  English,  on  the  other  hand,  could  discharge  their 
arrows  almost  as  fast  as  the  arrows  could  fly. 

When  the  French  King  saw  the  Genoese  turning,  he  cried 
out  to  his  men  to  kill  those  scoundrels,  who  were  doing  harm 
instead  of  service.  This  increased  the  confusion.  Meanwhile 
the  English  archers,  continuing  to  shoot  as  fast  as  ever,  shot 
down  great  numbers  of  the  French  soldiers  and  knights  ; 
whom  certain  sly  Cornishmen  and  Welshmen,  from  the  Eng- 
lish arm}7,  creeping  along  the  ground,  despatched  with  great 
knives. 

The  Prince  and  his  division  were  at  this  time  so  hard- 
pressed,  that  the  Earl  of  Warwick  sent  a  message  to  the  King, 
who  was  overlooking  the  battle  from  a  windmill,  beseeching 
him  to  send  more  aid. 

"  Is  my  son  killed  ?  "  said  the  King. 

"  No,  sire,  please  God,"  returned  the  messenger. 

"  Is  he  wounded  ?  "  said  the  King. 

"  No,  sire." 

"Is  he  thrown  to  the  ground  ?"  said  the  King. 

"  No,  sire,  not  so ;  but,  he  is  very  hard-pressed." 

"  Then,"  said  the  King,  "  go  back  to  those  who  sent  you, 
and  tell  them  I  shall  send  no  aid  ;  because  I  set  my  heart  upon 
my  son  proving  himself  this  day  a  brave  knight,  and  because 
I  am  resolved,  please  God,  that  the  honor  of  a  great  victory 
shall  be  his  !  " 

These  bold  words,  being  reported  to  the  Prince  and  his  di- 
vision, so  raised  their  spirits,  that  they  fought  better  than  ever. 


186  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

The  King  of  France  charged  gallantly  with  his  men  many 
times  ;  but  it  was  of  no  use.  Night  closing  in,  his  horse  was 
killed  under  him  by  an  English  arrow,  and  the  knights  and 
nobles  wh  had  clustered  thick  about  him  early  in  the  day, 
were  now  completely  scattered.  At  last  some  of  his  few 
remaining  followers  led  him  off  the  field  by  force,  since  he 
would  not  retire  of  himself,  and  they  journe}Ted  away  to  Ami- 
ens. The  victorious  English,  lighting  their  watch-fires,  made 
merry  on  the  field,  and  the  King,  riding  to  meet  his  gallant 
son,  took  him  in  his  arms,  kissed  him,  and  told  him  that  he 
had  acted  nobly,  and  proved  himself  worthy  of  the  da}'  and  of 
the  crown.  While  it  was  yet  night,  King  Edward  was  hardly 
aware  of  the  great  victory  he  had  gained  ;  but,  next  day,  it  was 
discovered  that  eleven  princes,  twelve  hundred  knights,  and 
thirty  thousand  common  men  lay  dead  upon  the  French  side. 
Among  these  was  the  King  of  Bohemia,  an  old  blind  man ; 
who,  having  been  told  that  his  son  was  wounded  in  the  battle, 
and  that  no  force  could  stand  against  the  Black  Prince,  called 
to  him  two  knights,  put  himself  on  horseback  between  them, 
fastened  the  three  bridles  together,  and  clashed  in  among  the 
English,  where  he  was  presently  slain.  He  bore  as  his  crest 
three  white  ostrich  feathers,  with  the  motto  Ich  dien,  signify- 
ing in  English  "  I  serve."  This  crest  and  motto  were  taken 
by  the  Prince  of  Wales  in  remembrance  of  that  famous  da}', 
and  have  been  borne  by  the  Prince  of  Wales  ever  since. 

Five  da}'s  after  this  great  battle,  the  King  laid  siege  to 
Calais.  This  siege  —  ever  afterwards  memorable  —  lasted 
nearly  a-  year.  In  order  to  starve  the  inhabitants  out,  King 
Edward  built  so  many  wooden  houses  for  the  lodgings  of  his 
troops,  that  it  is  said  their  quarters  looked  like  a  second 
Calais  suddenly  sprung  up  around  the  first.  Early  in  the 
siege,  the  governor  of  the  town  drove  out  what  he  called  the 
useless  mouths,  to  the  number  of  seventeen  hundred  persons, 
men  and  women,  young  and  old.  King  Edward  allowed 
them  to  pass  through  his  lines,  and  even  fed  them,  and  dis- 
missed them  with  money ;  but,  later  in  the  siege,  he  was  not 


EDWARD  THE  THIRD.  187 

so  merciful  —  five  hundred  more,  who  were  afterwards  driven 
out,  (tying  of  starvation  and  miseiy.  The  garrison  were  so 
hard-pressed  at  last,  that  they  sent  a  letter  to  King  Philip, 
telling  him  that  they  had  eaten  all  the  horses,  all  the  dogs, 
and  all  the  rats  and  mice  that  could  be  found  in  the  place ; 
and,  that  if  he  did  not  relieve  them,  they  must  either  surren- 
der to  the  English,  or  eat  one  another.  Philip  made  one 
effort  to  give  them  relief;  but  they  were  so  hemmed  in  by  the 
English  power,  that  he  could  not  succeed,  and  was  fain  to 
leave  the  place.  Upon  this  the}T  hoisted  the  English  flag,  and 
surrendered  to  King  Edward.  "  Tell  your  general,"  said  he 
to  the  humble  messengers  who  came  out  of  the  town,  "  that 
I  require  to  have  sent  here,  six  of  the  most  distinguished  cit- 
izens, bare-legged,  and  in  their  shirts,  with  ropes  about  their 
necks ;  and  let  those  six  men  bring  with  them  the  keys  of 
the  castle  and  the  town." 

When  the  Governor  of  Calais  related  this  to  the  people  in 
the  Market-place,  there  was  great  weeping  and  distress ;  in 
the  midst  of  which,  one  worthy  citizen,  named  Eustace  de 
Saint  Pierre,  rose  up  and  said,  that  if  the  six  men  required 
were  not  sacrificed,  the  whole  population  would  be  ;  therefore 
he  offered  himself  as  the  first.  Encouraged  by  this  bright 
example,  five  other  worthy  citizens  rose  up  one  after  another, 
and  offered  themselves  to  save  the  rest.  The  Governor,  who 
was  too  badly  wounded  to  be  able  to  walk,  mounted  a  poor 
old  horse  that  had  not  been  eaten,  and  conducted  these  good 
men  to  the  gate,  while  all  the  people  cried  and  mourned. 

Edward  received  them  wrathfully,  and  ordered  the  heads 
of  the  whole  six  to  be  struck  off.  However,  the  good  Queen 
fell  upon  her  knees,  and  besought  the  King  to  give  them  up 
to  her.  The  King  replied,  "  I  wish  you  had  been  somewhere 
else ;  but  I  cannot  refuse  3*011."  So  she  had  them  properly 
dressed,  made  a  feast  for  them,  and  sent  them  back  with  a 
handsome  present,  to  the  great  rejoicing  of  the  whole  camp. 
I  hope  the  people  of  Calais  loved  the  daughter  to  whom  she 
gave  birth  soon  afterwards,  for  her  gentle  mother's  sake. 


188  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

Now  came  that  terrible  disease,  the  Plague,  into  Europe, 
hurrying  from  the  heart  of  China ;  and  killed  the  wretched 
people  —  especially  the  poor  —  in  such  enormous  numbers, 
that  one-half  of  the  inhabitants  of  England  are  related  to  have 
died  of  it.  It  killed  the  cattle,  in  great  numbers,  too ;  and 
so  few  working  men  remained  alive,  that  there  were  not 
enough  left  to  till  the  ground. 

After  eight  years  of  differing  and  quarrelling,  the  Prince 
of  Wales  again  invaded  France  with  an  army  of  sixty  thou- 
sand men.  He  went  through  the  south  of  the  country,  burn- 
ing and  plundering  wheresoeArer  he  went ;  while  his  father, 
who  had  still  the  Scottish  war  upon  his  hands,  did  the  like  in 
Scotland,  but  was  harassed  and  worried  in  his  retreat  from 
that  country  by  the  Scottish  men,  who  repaid  his  cruelties 
with  interest. 

The  French  King,  Philip,  was  now  dead,  and  was  suc- 
ceeded by  his  son  John.  The  Black  Prince,  called  by  that 
name  from  the  color  of  the  armor  he  wore  to  set  off  his  fair 
complexion,  continuing  to  burn  and  destroy  in  France,  roused 
John  into  determined  opposition  ;  and  so  cruel  had  the  Black 
Prince  been  in  his  campaign,  and  so  severely  had  the  French 
peasants  suffered,  that  he  could  not  find  one  who,  for  love, 
or  money,  or  the  fear  of  death,  would  tell  him  what  the 
French  King  was  doing,  or  where  he  was.  Thus  it  happened 
that  he  came  upon  the  French  King's  forces,  all  of  a  sudden, 
near  the  town  of  Poitiers,  and  found  that  the  whole  neigh- 
boring country  was  occupied  by  a  vast  French  army.  "God 
help  us ! "  said  the  Black  Prince,  "  we  must  make  the  best 
of  it." 

So,  on  a  Sunday  morning,  the  eighteenth  of  September, 
the  Prince  —  whose  army  was  now  reduced  to  ten  thousand 
men  in  all  —  prepared  to  give  battle  to  the  French  King, 
who  had  sixty  thousand  horse  alone.  While  he  was  so  en- 
gaged, there  came  riding  from  the  French  camp,  a  Cardinal, 
who  had  persuaded  John  to  let  him  offer  terms,  and  try  to 
save  the  shedding  of  Christian  blood.  "  Save  my  honor," 


EDWAED  THE  THIRD.  189 

said  the  Frince  to  this  good  piiest,  "  and  save  the  honor  of 
my  arm}',  and  I  will  make  any  reasonable  terms."  He  offered 
to  give  up  all  the  towns,  castles,  and  prisoners,  he  had  taken, 
and  to  swear  to  make  no  war  in  France  for  seven  years  ;  but, 
as  John  would  hear  of  nothing  but  his  surrender,  with  a  hun- 
dred of  his  chief  knights,  the  treaty  was  broken  off,  and  the 
Prince  said  quietly  —  "  God  defend  the  right ;  we  shall  fight 
to-morrow." 

Therefore,  on  the  Monday  morning,  at  break  of  day,  the 
two  armies  prepared  for  battle.  The  English  were  posted  in 
a  strong  place,  which  could  only  be  approached  by  one  narrow 
lane,  skirted  by  hedges  on  both  sides.  The  French  attacked 
them  by  this  lane ;  but  were  so  galled  and  slain  by  English 
arrows  from  behind  the  hedges,  that  they  were  forced  to 
retreat.  Then  went  six  hundred  English  bowmen  round 
about,  and,  coming  upon  the  rear  of  the  French  army,  rained 
arrows  on  them  thick  and  fast.  The  French  knights,  thrown 
into  confusion,  quitted  their  banners  and  dispersed  in  all 
directions.  Said  Sir  John  Chandos  to  the  Prince,  "Ride 
forward,  noble  Prince,  and  the  day  is  yours.  The  King  of 
France  is  so  valiant  a  gentleman,  that  I  know  he  will  never 
fly,  and  may  be  taken  prisoner."  Said  the  Prince  to  this, 
"Advance,  English  banners,  in  the  name  of  God  and  St. 
George ! "  and  on  they  pressed  until  they  came  up  with  the 
French  King,  fighting  fiercely  with  his  battle-axe,  and,  when 
all  his  nobles  had  forsaken  him,  attended  faithfully  to  the 
last  b}-  his  youngest  son  Philip,  onl}T  sixteen  years  of  age. 
Father  and  son  fought  well,  and  the  King  had  alread}7  two 
wounds  in  his  face,  and  had  been  beaten  down,  when 
he  at  last  delivered  himself  to  a  banished  French  knight, 
and  gave  him  his  right-hand  glove  in  token  that  he  had 
done  so. 

The  Black  Prince  was  generous  as  well  as  brave,  and  he 
invited  his  ro}-al  prisoner  to  supper  in  his  tent,  and  waited 
upon  him  at  table,  and,  when  they  afterwards  rode  into  Lon- 
don in  a  gorgeous  procession,  mounted  the  French  King  on  a 


190  A    CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

fine  cream-colored  horse,  and  rode  at  his  side  on  a  little  pony. 
This  was  all  very  kind,  but  I  think  it  was,  perhaps,  a  little 
theatrical  too,  and  has  been  made  more  meritorious  than  it 
deserved  to  be ;  especially  as  I  ain  inclined  to  think  that  the 
greatest  kindness  to  the  King  of  France  would  have  been  not 
to  have  shown  him  to  the  people  at  all.  However,  it  must 
be  said,  for  these  acts  of  politeness,  that,  in  course  of  time, 
the}'  did  much  to  soften  the  horrors  of  war  and  the  passions 
of  conquerors.  It  was  a  long,  long  time  before  the  common 
soldiers  began  to  have  the  benefit  of  such  courtly  deeds  ;  but 
the}-  did  at  last ;  and  thus  it  is  possible  that  a  poor  soldier 
who  asked  for  quarter  at  the  battle  of  Waterloo,  or  any  other 
such  great  fight,  may  have  owed  his  life  indirectly  to  Edward 
the  Black  Prince. 

At  this  time  there  stood  in  the  Strand,  in  London,  a  palace 
called  the  Savoy,  which  was  given  up  to  the  captive  King  of 
France  and  his  son  for  their  residence.  As  the  King  of  Scot- 
land had  now  been  King  Edward's  captive  for  eleven  years 
too,  his  success  was,  at  this  time,  tolerably  complete.  The 
Scottish  business  was  settled  by  the  prisoner  being  released 
under  the  title  of  Sir  David,  King  of  Scotland,  and  by  his 
engaging  to  pay  a  large  ransom.  The  state  of  France  en- 
couraged England  to  propose  harder  terms  to  that  country, 
where  the  people  rose  against  the  unspeakable  cruelty  and 
barbarity  of  its  nobles ;  where  the  nobles  rose  in  turn  against 
the  people  ;  where  the  most  frightful  outrages  were  committed 
on  all  sides ;  and  where  the  insurrection  of  the  peasants, 
called  the  insurrection-of  the  Jacquerie,  from  Jacques,  a  com- 
mon Christian  name  among  the  country  people  of  France, 
awakened  terrors  and  hatreds  that  have  scarcely  yet  passed 
away.  A  treaty  called  the  Great  Peace,  was  at  last  signed, 
under  which  King  Edward  agreed  to  give  up  the  greater  part 
of  his  conquests,  and  King  John  to  pay,  within  six  years,  a 
ransom  of  three  million  crowns  of  gold.  He  was  so  beset  by 
his  own  nobles  and  courtiers  for  having  yielded  to  these  con- 
ditions —  though  they  could  help  him  to  no  better  —  that  he 


^ 


DEATH   OF  EDWARD   III. 


EDWAKD   THE  THIRD.  191 

came  back  of  his  own  will  to  his  old  palace-prison  of  the 
Savoy,  and  there  died. 

There  was  a  Sovereign  of  Castile  at  that  time,  called  PEDRO 
THE  CRUEL,  who  deserved  the  name  remarkably  well :  having 
committed,  among  other  cruelties,  a  variety  of  murders. 
This  amiable  monarch  being  driven  from  his  throne  for  his 
crimes,  went  to  the  province  of  Bordeaux,  where  the  Black 
Prince  —  now  married  to  his  cousin  JOAN,  a  pretty  widow  — 
was  residing,  and  besought  his  help.  The  Prince,  who  took 
to  him  much  more  kindly  than  a  prince  of  such  fame  ought 
to  have  taken  to  such  a  ruffian,  readily  listened  to  his  fair 
promises,  and  agreeing  to  help  him,  sent  secret  orders  to 
some  troublesome  disbanded  soldiers  of  his  and  his  father's, 
who  called  themselves  the  Free  Companions,  and  who  had 
been  a  pest  to  the  French  people,  for  some  time,  to  aid  this 
Pedro.  The  Prince,  himself,  going  into  Spain  to  head  the 
army  of  relief,  soon  set  Pedro  on  his  throne  again  —  where 
he  no  sooner  found  himself,  than,  of  course,  he  behaved  like 
the  villain  he  was,  broke  his  word  without  the  least  shame, 
and  abandoned  all  the  promises  he  had  made  to  the  Black 
Prince. 

Now,  it  had  cost  the  Prince  a  good  deal  of  money  to  pay 
soldiers  to  support  this  murderous  King  ;  and  finding  himself, 
when  he  came  back  disgusted  to  Bordeaux,  not  onl}'  in  bad 
health,  but  deeply  in  debt,  he  began  to  tax  his  French  sub- 
jects to  pay  his  creditors.  They  appealed  to  the  French  King, 
CHARLES  ;  war  again  broke  out ;  and  the  French  town  of 
Limoges,  which  the  Prince  had  greatly  benefited,  went  over 
to  the  French  King.  Upon  this  he  ravaged  the  province  of 
which  it  was  the  capital ;  burnt,  and  plundered,  and  killed  in 
the  old  sickening  way ;  and  refused  mercy  to  the  prisoners, 
men,  women,  and  children  taken  in  the  offending  town, 
though  he  was  so  ill  and  so  much  in  need  of  pity  himself  from 
Heaven,  that  he  was  carried  in  a  litter.  He  lived  to  come 
home  and  make  himself  popular  with  the  people  and  Parlia- 
ment, and  he  died  on  Trinity  Sunday,  the  eighth  of  June,  one 


192  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

thousand  three  hundred  and  seventj'-six,  at  forty-six  years 
old. 

The  whole  nation  mourned  for  him  as  one  of  the  most  re- 
*  nowned  and  beloved  princes  it  had  ever  had ;  and  he  was 
buried  with  great  lamentations  in  Canterbury  Cathedral. 
Near  to  the  tomb  of  Edward  the  Confessor,  his  monument, 
with  his  figure,  carved  in  stone,  and  represented  in  the  old 
black  armor,  lying  on  its  back,  may  be  seen  at  this  da}',  with 
an  ancient  coat  of  mail,  a  helmet,  and  a  pair  of  gauntlets 
hanging  from  a  beam  above  it,  which  most  people  like  to 
believe  were  once  worn  by  the  Black  Prince. 

King  Edward  did  not  outlive  his  renowned  son,  long.  He 
was  old,  and  one  Alice  Ferrers,  a  beautiful  lady,  had  con- 
trived to  make  him  so  fond  of  her  in  his  old  age,  that  he  could 
refuse  her  nothing,  and  made  himself  ridiculous.  She  little 
deserved  his  love,  or  —  what  I  dare  say  she  valued  a  great 
deal  more  —  the  jewels  of  the  late  Queen,  which  he  gave 
her  among  other  rich  presents.  She  took  the  very  ring 
from  his  finger  on  the  morning  of  the  day  when  he  died, 
and  left  him  to  be  pillaged  by  his  faithless  servants.  Only 
one  good  priest  was  true  to  him,  and  attended  him  to  the 
last. 

Besides  being  famous  for  the  great  victories  I  have  related, 
the  reign  of  King  Edward  the  Third  was  rendered  memorable 
in  better  ways,  bj"  the  growth  of  architecture  and  the  erection 
of  Windsor  Castle.  In  better  ways  still,  by  the  rising  up  of 
WICKLIFFE,  originally  a  poor  parish  priest :  who  devoted 
himself  to  exposing,  with  wonderful  power  and  success,  the 
ambition  and  corruption  of  the  Pope,  and  of  the  whole  church 
of  which  he  was  the  head-. 

Some  of  those  Flemings  were  induced  to  come  to  England  in 
this  reign  too,  and  to  settle  in  Norfolk,  where  they  made  bet- 
ter woollen  cloths  than  the  English  had  ever  had  before.  The 
Order  of  the  Garter  (a  very  fine  thing  in  its  way,  but  hardly 
so  important  as  good  clothes  for  the  nation)  also  dates  from 
this  period.  The  King  is  said  to  have  picked  up  a  lady's 


JEDWARD   THE  THIRD.  193 

garter  at  a  ball,  and  to  have  said  Honi  soit  qui  mat  y  pense  — 
in  English  "Evil  be  to  him  who  evil  thinks  of  it."  The 
courtiers  were  usually  glad  to  imitate  what  the  King  said  or 
did,  and  hence  from  a  slight  incident  the  Order  of  the  Garter 
was  instituted,  and  became  a  great  dignity.  So  the  story 
goes. 


194  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

ENGLAND   UNDER   RICHARD   THE    SECOND. 

RICHARD,  son  of  the  Black  Prince,  a  boy  eleven  years  of 
age,  succeeded  to  the  Crown  under  the  title  of  King  Richard 
the  Second.  The  whole  English  nation  were  ready  to  admire 
him  for  the  sake  of  his  brave  father.  As  to  the  lords  and 
ladies  about  the  Court,  the}1  declared  him  to  be  the  most 
beautiful,  the  wisest,  and  the  best —  even  of  princes  —  whom 
the  lords  and  ladies  about  the  Court,  generally  declare  to  be 
the  most  beautiful,  the  wisest,  and  the  best  of  mankind.  To 
flatter  a  poor  boy  in  this  base  manner  was  not  a  very  likely 
way  to  develop  whatever  good  was  in  him ;  and  it  brought 
him  to  anything  but  a  good  or  happy  end. 

The  Duke  of  Lancaster,  the  young  King's  uncle  —  com- 
monly called  John  of  Gaunt,  from  having  been  born  at  Ghent, 
which  the  common  people  so  pronounced  —  was  supposed  to 
have  some  thoughts  of  the  throne  himself;  but,  as  he  was 
not  popular,  and  the  memory  of  the  Black  Prince  was,  he 
submitted  to  his  nephew. 

The  war  with  France  being  still  unsettled,  the  Government 
of  England  wanted  money  to  provide  for  the  expenses  that 
might  arise  out  of  it :  accordingly  a  certain  tax,  called  the 
Poll-tax,  which  had  originated  in  the  last  reign,  was  ordered 
to  be  levied  on  the  people.  This  was  a  tax  on  every  person 
in  the  kingdom,  male  and  female,  above  the  age  of  fourteen, 
of  three  groats  (or  three  fourpenny  pieces)  a  year ;  clergy- 
men were  charged  more,  and  only  beggars  were  exempt. 

I  have  no  need  to  repeat  that  the  common  people  of  Eng- 
land had  long  been  suffering  under  great  oppression.  They 


RICHARD  THE  SECOND.  195 

were  still  the  mere  slaves  of  the  lords  of  the  land  on  which 
the}7  lived,  and  were  on  most  occasions  harshly  and  unjustly 
treated.  But,  they  had  begun  by  this  time  to  think  very 
seriously  of  not  bearing  quite  so  much  ;  and,  probably,  were 
emboldened  by  that  French  insurrection  I  mentioned  in  the 
last  chapter. 

The  people  of  Essex  rose  against  the  Poll-tax,  and  being 
severely  handled  by  the  government  officers,  killed  some  of 
them.  At  this  very  time  one  of  the  tax-collectors,  going  his 
rounds  from  house  to  house,  at  Dartford  in  Kent  came  to  the 
cottage  of  one  WAT,  a  tiler  by  trade,  and  claimed  the  tax 
upon  his  daughter.  Her  mother,  who  was  at  home,  declared 
that  she  was  under  the  age  of  fourteen ;  upon  that,  the  col- 
lector (as  other  collectors  had  already  done  in  different  parts 
of  England)  behaved  in  a  savage  way,  and  brutally  insulted 
Wat  Tyler's  daughter.  The  daughter  screamed,  the  mother 
screamed.  Wat  the  Tiler,  who  was  at  work  not  far  off,  ran 
to  the  spot,  and  did  what  an}T  honest  father  under  such  pro- 
vocation might  have  done  —  struck  the  collector  dead  at  a 
blow. 

Instantly  the  people  of  that  town  uprose  as  one  man. 
They  made  Wat  Tyler  their  leader ;  the}1  joined  with  the 
people  of  Essex,  who  were  in  arms  under  a  priest  called 
JACK  STRAW  ;  they  took  out  of  prison  another  priest  named 
JOHN  BALL  ;  and  gathering  in  numbers  as  they  went  along, 
advanced,  in  a  great  confused  army  of  poor  men,  to  Black- 
heath.  It  is  said  that  they  wanted  to  abolish  all  property, 
and  to  declare  all  men  equal.  I  do  not  think  this  very  likely  ; 
because  they  stopped  the  travellers  on  the  roads  and  made 
them  swear  to  be  true  to  King  Richard  and  the  people.  Nor 
were  they  at  all  disposed  to  injure  those  who  had  done  them 
no  harm,  merely  because  they  were  of  high  station  ;  for,  the 
King's  mother,  who  had  to  pass  through  their  camp  at  Black- 
heath,  on  her  way  to  her  young  son,  lying  for  safety  in  the 
Tower  of  London,  had  merely  to  kiss  a  few  dirty-faced  rough- 
bearded  men  who  were  noisily  fond  of  royalty,  and  so  got 


196  A   CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

away  in  perfect  safety.  Next  day  the  whole  mass  marched 
on  to  London  Bridge. 

There  was  a  drawbridge  in  the  middle,  which  WILLIAM 
WAL WORTH  the  Ma}-or  caused  to  be  raised  to  prevent  their 
coming  into  the  city ;  but  they  soon  terrified  the  citizens  into 
lowering  it  again,  and  spread  themselves,  with  great  uproar, 
over  the  streets.  They  broke  open  the  prisons  ;  they  burned 
the  papers  in  Lambeth  Palace  ;  they  destroyed  the  DUKE  OF 
LANCASTER'S  Palace,  the  Savoy,  in  the  Strand,  said  to  be  the 
most  beautiful  and  splendid  in  England  ;  they  set  fire  to  the 
books  and  documents  in  the  Temple  ;  and  made  a  great  riot. 
Many  of  these  outrages  were  committed  in  drunkenness ; 
since  those  citizens,  who  had  well-filled  cellars,  were  only  too 
glad  to  throw  them  open  to  save  the  rest  of  their  property ; 
but  even  the  drunken  rioters  were  very  careful  to  steal  noth- 
ing. They  were  so  angry  with  one  man,  who  was  seen  to 
take  a  silver  cup  at  the  Savoy  Palace,  and  put  it  in  his 
breast,  that  they  drowned  him  in  the  river,  cup  and  all. 

The  young  King  had  been  taken  out  to  treat  with  them 
before  they  committed  these  excesses  ;  but,  he  and  the  peo- 
ple about  him  were  so  frightened  by  the  riotous  shouts,  that 
they  got  back  to  the  Tower  in  the  best  way  they  could.  This 
made  the  insurgents  bolder ;  so  they  went  on  noting  away, 
striking  off  the  heads  of  those  who  did  not,  at  a  moment's 
notice,  declare  for  King  Richard  and  the  people ;  and  killing 
as  many  of  the  unpopular  persons  whom  they  supposed  to  be 
their  enemies  as  they  could  by  any  means  Jay  hold  of.  In 
this  manner  they  passed  one  very  violent  day,  and  then  pro- 
clamation was  made  that  the  King  would  meet  them  at  Mile- 
end,  and  grant  their  requests. 

The  rioters  went  to  Mile-end  to  the  number  of  sixty  thou- 
sand, and  the  King  met  them  there,  and  to  the  King  the 
rioters  peaceably  proposed  four  conditions.  First,  that 
neither  they,  nor  their  children,  nor  any  coming  after  them, 
should  be  made  slaves  any  more.  Secondly,  that  the  rent 
of  land  should  be  fixed  at  a  certain  price  in  mone}',  instead 


EICHARD   THE   SECOND.  197 

of  being  paid  in  service.  Thirdly,  that  they  should  have 
liberty  to  buy  and  sell  in  all  markets  and  public  places,  like 
other  free  men.  Fourthly,  that  they  should  be  pardoned  for 
past  offences.  Heaven  knows,  there  was  nothing  very  unrea- 
sonable in  these  proposals !  The  young  King  deceitfully 
pretended  to  think  so,  and  kept  thirty  clerks  up,  all  night, 
writing  out  a  charter  accordingly. 

Now,  Wat  Tyler  himself  wanted  more  than  this.  He 
wanted  the  entire  abolition  of  the  forest  laws.  He  was  not 
at  Mile-end  with  the  rest,  but,  while  that  meeting  was  being 
held,  broke  into  the  Tower  of  London  and  slew  the  arch- 
bishop and  the  treasurer,  for  whose  heads  the  people  had 
cried  out  loudly  the  da}r  before.  He  and  his  men  even 
thrust  their  swords  into  the  bed  of  the  Princess  of  Wales 
while  the  Princess  was  in  it,  to  make  certain  that  none  of 
their  enemies  were  concealed  there. 

So,  Wat  and  his  men  still  continued  armed,  and  rode 
about  the  cit}r.  Next  morning,  the  King  with  a  small  train 
of  some  sixty  gentlemen  —  among  whom  was  WALWORTH 
the  Mayor  —  rode  into  Smithfield,  and  saw  Wat  and  his  peo- 
ple at  a  little  distance.  Saj's  Wat  to  his  men,  "  There  is 
the  King.  I  will  go  speak  with  him,  and  tell  him  what  we 
want." 

Straightway  Wat  rode  up  to  him,  and  began  to  talk. 
*'  King,"  says  Wat,  "  dost  thou  see  all  my  men  there?  " 

"  Ah,"  says  the  King.     "  Why  ?  " 

"  Because,"  sa}-s  Wat,  "  they  are  all  at  my  command,  and 
have  sworn  to  do  whatever  I  bid  them." 

Some  declared  afterwards  that  as  Wat  said  this,  he  laid 
his  hand  on  the  King's  bridle.  Others  declared  that  he  was 
seen  to  play  with  his  own  dagger.  I  think,  myself,  that  he 
just  spoke  to  the  King  like  a  rough,  angry  man,  as  he  was, 
and  did  nothing  more.  At  any  rate  he  was  expecting  no 
attack,  and  preparing  for  no  resistance,  when  Walworth  the 
Mayor  did  the  not  very  valiant  deed  of  drawing  a  short 
sword  and  stabbing  him  in  the  throat.  He  dropped  from  his 


198  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

horse,  and  one  of  the  King's  people  speedily  finished  him. 
So  fell  Wat  Tyler.  Fawners  and  flatterers  made  a  mighty 
triumph  of  it,  and  set  up  a  cry  which  will  occasionally  find 
an  echo  to  this  day.  But  Wat  was  a  hard-working  man,  who 
had  suffered  much,  and  had  been  foully  outraged  ;  and  it  is 
probable  that  he  was  a  man  of  a  much  higher  nature  and  a 
much  braver  spirit  than  any  of  the  parasites  who  exulted 
then,  or  have  exulted  since,  over  his  defeat. 

Seeing  Wat  down,  his  men  immediately  bent  their  bows  to 
avenge  his  fall.  If  the  young  King  had  not  had  presence  of 
mind  at  that  dangerous  moment,  both  he  and  the  Mayor  to 
boot,  might  have  followed  Tyler  pretty  fast.  But  the  King 
riding  up  to  the  crowd,  cried  out  that  Tyler  was  a  traitor,  and 
that  he  would  be  their  leader.  They  were  so  taken  by  sur- 
prise, that  they  set  up  a  great  shouting,  and  followed  the  boy 
until  he  was  met  at  Islington  by  a  large  body  of  soldiers. 

The  end  of  this  rising  was  the  then  usual  end.  As  soon 
as  the  King  found  himself  safe,  he  unsaid  all  he  had  said, 
and  undid  all  he  had  done ;  some  fifteen  hundred  of  the 
rioters  were  tried  (mostly  in  Essex)  with  great  rigor,  and 
executed  with  great  cruelt}'.  Many  of  them  were  hanged  on 
gibbets,  and  left  there  as  a  terror  to  the  countiy  people  ;  and, 
because  their  miserable  friends  took  some  of  the  bodies  down 
to  bury,  the  King  ordered  the  rest  to  be  chained  up  —  which 
was  the  beginning  of  the  barbarous  custom  of  hanging  in 
chains.  The  King's  falsehood  in  this  business  makes  such  a 
pitiful  figure,  that  I  think  Wat  Tyler  appears  in  history  as 
beyond  comparison  the  truer  and  more  respectable  man  of 
the  two. 

Richard  was  now  sixteen  j'ears  of  age,  and  married  Anne 
of  Bohemia,  an  excellent  princess,  who  was  called  "the  good 
Queen  Anne."  She  deserved  a  better  husband ;  for  the 
King  had  been  fawned  and  flattered  into  a  treacherous, 
wasteful,  dissolute,  bad  young  man. 

There  were  two  Popes  at  this  time  (as  if  one  were  not 
enough  !),  and  their  quarrels  involved  Europe  in  a  great  deal 


RICHARD   THE   SECOND.  199 

of  trouble.  Scotland  was  still  troublesome  too  ;  and  at  home 
there  was  much  jealousy  and  distrust,  and  plotting  and 
counter-plotting,  because  the  King  feared  the  ambition  of  his 
relations,  and  particularly  of  his  uncle,  the  Duke  of  Lancas- 
ter, and  the  duke  had  his  party  against  the  King,  and  the 
King  had  his  party  against  the  duke.  Nor  were  these  home 
troubles  lessened  when  the  duke  went  to  Castile  to  urge  his 
claim  to  the  crown  of  that  kingdom  ;  for  then  the  Duke  of 
Gloucester,  another  of  Richard's  uncles,  opposed  him,  and 
influenced  the  Parliament  to  demand  the  dismissal  of  the 
King's  favorite  ministers.  The  King  said  in  reply,  that  he 
would  not  for  such  men  dismiss  the  meanest  servant  in  his 
kitchen.  But,  it  had  begun  to  signify  little  what  a  King  said 
when  a  Parliament  was  determined ;  so  Richard  was  at  last 
obliged  to  give  way,  and  to  agree  to  another  Government  of 
the  kingdom,  under  a  commission  of  fourteen  nobles,  for  a 
year.  His  uncle  of  Gloucester  was  at  the  head  of  this  com- 
mission, and,  in  fact,  appointed  everybody  composing  it. 

Having  done  all  this,  the  King  declared  as  soon  as  he  saw 
an  opportunity  that  he  had  never  meant  to  do  it,  and  that  it 
was  all  illegal ;  and  he  got  the  judges  secretly  to  sign  a 
declaration  to  that  effect.  The  secret  oozed  out  directly,  and 
was  carried  to  the  Duke  of  Gloucester.  The  Duke  of  Glou- 
cester, at  the  head  of  forty  thousand  men,  met  the  King  on 
his  entering  into  London  to  enforce  his  authority ;  the  King 
was  helpless  against  him ;  his  favorites  and  ministers  were 
impeached  and  were  mercilessly  executed.  Among  them 
were  two  men  whom  the  people  regarded  with  very  different 
feelings  ;  one,  Robert  Tresilian,  Chief  Justice,  who  was  hated 
for  having  made  what  was  called  "  the  bloody  circuit"  to  try 
the  rioters  ;  the  other,  Sir  Simon  Burley,  an  honorable  knight, 
who  had  been  the  dear  friend  of  the  Black  Prince,  and  the 
governor  and  guardian  of  the  King.  For  this  gentleman's 
life  the  good  Queen  even  begged  of  Gloucester  on  her  knees ; 
but' Gloucester  (with  or  without  reason)  feared  and  hated 
him,  aud  replied,  that  if  she  valued  her  husband's  crown,  she 


200  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

had  better  beg  no  more.  All  this  was  done  under  what  was 
called  by  some  the  wonderful  —  and  by  others,  with  better 
reason,  the  merciless  —  Parliament. 

But  Gloucester's  power  was  not  to  last  for  ever.  He  held 
it  for  only  a  year  longer ;  in  which  year  the  famous  battle  of 
Otterbourne,  sung  in  the  old  ballad  of  Chevy  Chase,  was 
fought.  When  the  }-ear  was  out,  the  King,  turning  suddenly 
to  Gloucester,  in  the  midst  of  a  great  council  said,  "  Uncle, 
how  old  am  I?"  "  Your  highness,"  returned  the  Duke,  "  is 
in  your  twenty-second  year."  "Am  I  so  much?"  said  the 
King,  "then  I  will  manage  my  own  affairs!  I  am  much 
obliged  to  you,  my  good  lords,  for  }'our  past  services,  but  I 
need  them  no  more."  He  followed  this  up,  by  appointing  a 
new  Chancellor  and  a  new  Treasurer,  and  announced  to  the 
people  that  he  had  resumed  the  Government.  He  held  it  for 
eight  years  without  opposition.  Through  all  that  time,  he 
kept  his  determination  to  revenge  himself  some  da}'  upon  his 
uncle  Gloucester,  in  his  own  breast. 

At  last  the  good  Queen  died,  and  then  the  King,  desiring 
to  take  a  second  wife,  proposed  to  his  council  that  he  should 
marry  Isabella,  of  France,  the  daughter  of  Charles  the  Sixth  : 
who,  the  French  courtiers  said  (as  the  English  courtiers  had 
said  of  Richard) ,  was  a  marvel  of  beaut}"  and  wit,  and  quite 
a  phenomenon  —  of  seven  years  old.  The  council  were  di- 
vided about  this  marriage,  but  it  took  place.  It  secured 
peace  between  England  and  France  for  a  quarter  of  a  century  ; 
but  it  was  strongly  opposed  to  the  prejudices  of  the  English 
people.  The  Duke  of  Gloucester,  who  was  anxious  to  take 
the  occasion  of  making  himself  popular,  declaimed  against  it 
loudly,  and  this  at  length  decided  the  King  to  execute  the 
vengeance  he  had  been  nursing  so  long. 

He  went  with  a  gay  company  to  the  Duke  of  Gloucester's 
house,  Pleshey  Castle,  in  Essex,  where  the  Duke,  suspecting 
nothing,  came  out  into  the  court-yard  to  receive  his  ro^yal 
visitor.  While  the  King  conversed  in  a  friendly  manner  with 
the  Duchess,  the  Duke  was  quietly  seized,  hurried  away, 


RICHARD  THE  SECOND.  201 

shipped  for  Calais,  and  lodged  in  the  castle  there.  His 
friends,  the  Earls  of  Arundel  and  Warwick,  were  taken  iu 
the  same  treacherous  manner,  and  confined  to  their  castles. 
A  few  days  after,  at  Nottingham,  they  were  impeached  of 
high  treason.  The  Earl  of  Arundel  was  condemned  and  be- 
headed, and  the  Earl  of  Warwick  was  banished.  Then,  a 
writ  was  sent  by  a  messenger  to  the  Governor  of  Calais,  re- 
quiring him  to  send  the  Duke  of  Gloucester  over  to  be  tried. 
In  three  days  he  returned  an  answer  that  he  could  not  do 
that,  because  the  Duke  of  Gloucester  had  died  in  prison. 
The  Duke  was  declared  a  traitor,  his  property  was  confiscated 
to  the  King,  a  real  or  pretended  confession  he  had  made  in 
prison  to  one  of  the  Justices  of  the  Common  Pleas  was  pro- 
duced against  him,  and  there  was  an  end  of  the  matter. 
How  the  unfortunate  duke  died,  very  few  cared  to  know. 
Whether  he  really  died  naturally ;  whether  he  killed  himself ; 
whether,  by  the  King's  order,  he  was  strangled,  or  smothered 
between  two  beds  (as  a  serving-man  of  the  Governor's  named 
Hall,  did  afterwards  declare) ,  cannot  be  discovered.  There 
is  not  much  doubt  that  he  was  killed,  somehow  or  other,  by 
his  nephew's  orders.  Among  the  most  active  nobles  in  these 
proceedings  were  the  King's  cousin,  Henry  Bolingbroke, 
whom  the  King  had  made  Duke  of  Hereford  to  smooth  down 
the  old  family  quarrels,  and  some  others :  who  had  in  the 
family-plotting  times  done  just  such  acts  themselves  as  they 
now  condemned  in  the  duke.  They  seem  to  have  been  a 
corrupt  set  of  men ;  but  such  men  were  easily  found  about 
the  court  in  such  days. 

The  people  murmured  at  all  this,  and  were  still  very  sore 
about  the  French  marriage.  The  nobles  saw  how  little  the 
King  cared  for  law,  and  how  crafty  he  was,  and  began  to  be 
somewhat  afraid  of  themselves.  The  King's  life  was  a  life 
of  continued  feasting  and  excess ;  his  retinue,  down  to  the 
meanest  servants,  were  dressed  in  the  most  costbj  manner, 
and  caroused  at  his  tables ;  it  is  related,  to  the  number  of 
ten  thousand  persons  every  day.  He  himself,  surrounded  by 


202  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF   ENGLAND. 

a  body  of  ten  thousand  archers,  and  enriched  by  a  duty  on 
wool  which  the  Commons  had  granted  him  for  life,  saw  no 
danger  of  ever  being  otherwise  than  powerful  and  absolute, 
and  was  as  fierce  and  haughty  as  a  King  could  be. 

He  had  two  of  his  old  enemies  left,  in  the  persons  of  the 
Dukes  of  Hereford  and  Norfolk.  Sparing  these  no  more  than 
the  others,  he  tampered  with  the  Duke  of  Hereford  until  he 
got  him  to  declare  before  the  Council  that  the  Duke  of  Nor- 
folk had  lately  held  some  treasonable  talk  with  him,  as  he 
was  riding  near  Brentford  ;  and  that  he  had  told  him,  among 
other  things,  that  he  could  not  believe  the  King's  oath  — 
which  nobody  could,  I  should  think.  For  this  treachery  he 
obtained  a  pardon,  and  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  was  summoned 
to  appear  and  defend  himself.  As  he  denied  the  charge  and 
said  his  accuser  was  a  liar  and  a  traitor,  both  noblemen,  ac- 
cording to  the  manner  of  those  times,  were  held  in  custod}-, 
and  the  truth  was  ordered  to  be  decided  by  wager  of  battle  at 
Coventry.  This  wager  of  battle  meant  that  whomsoever  won 
the  combat  was  to  be  considered  in  the  right ;  which  nonsense 
meant  in  effect,  that  no  strong  man  could  ever  be  wrong.  A 
great  holiday  was  made  ;  a  great  crowd  assembled,  with  much 
parade  and  show ;  and  the  two  combatants  were  about  to 
rush  at  each  other  with  their  lances,  when  the  King,  sitting 
in  a  pavilion  to  see  fair,  threw  down  the  truncheon  he  carried 
in  his  hand,  and  forbade  the  battle.  The  Duke  of  Hereford 
was  to  be  banished  for  ten  years,  and  the  Duke  of  Norfolk 
was  to  be  banished  for  life.  So  said  the  King.  The  Duke 
of  Hereford  went  to  France,  and  went  no  farther.  The  Duke 
of  Norfolk  made  a  pilgrimage  to  the  Holy  Land,  and  after- 
wards died  at  Venice  of  a  broken  heart. 

Faster  and  fiercer,  after  this,  the  King  went  on  in  his  career. 
The  Duke  of  Lancaster,  who  was  the  father  of  the  Duke  of 
Hereford,  died  soon  after  the  departure  of  his  son ;  and,  the 
King,  although  he  had  solemnly  granted  to  that  son  leave  to 
inherit  his  father's  property,  if  it  should  come  to  him  during 
his  banishment,  immediately  seized  it  all,  like  a  robber. 


PJCIIARD  THE   SECOND.  203 

The  judges  were  so  afraid  of  him,  that  they  disgraced  them- 
selves by  declaring  this  theft  to  be  just  and  lawful.  His  ava- 
rice knew  no  bounds.  He  outlawed  seventeen  counties  at 
once,  on  a  frivolous  pretence,  merely  to  raise  money  by  way 
of  fines  for  misconduct.  In  short,  he  did  as  man}T  dishonest 
things  as  he  could ;  and  cared  so  little  for  the  discontent  of 
his  subjects  —  though  even  the  spaniel  favorites  began  to 
whisper  to  him  that  there  was  such  a  thing  as  discontent 
afloat  —  that  he  took  that  time,  of  all  others,  for  leaving 
England  and  making  an  expedition  against  the  Irish. 

He  was  scarcely  gone,  leaving  the  DUKE  OF  YORK  Regent 
in  his  absence,  when  his  cousin,  Henry  of  Hereford,  came 
over  from  France  to  claim  the  rights  of  which  he  had  been  so 
monstrously  deprived.  He  was  immediately  joined  by  the 
two  great  Earls  of  Northumberland  and  Westmoreland  ;  and 
his  uncle,  the  Regent,  finding  the  King's  cause  unpopular, 
and  the  disinclination  of  the  army  to  act  against  Henry,  very 
strong,  withdrew  the  royal  forces  towards  Bristol.  Hemy, 
at  the  head  of  an  army,  came  from  Yorkshire  (where  he  had 
landed)  to  London  and  followed  him.  They  joined  their 
forces  —  how  they  brought  that  about  is  not  distinct!}-  under- 
stood—  and  proceeded  to  Bristol  Castle,  whither  three  noble- 
men had  taken  the  young  Queen.  The  castle  surrendering, 
they  presently  put  those  three  noblemen  to  death.  The  Re- 
gent then  remained  there,  and  Henry  went  on  to  Chester. 

All  this  time,  the  boisterous  weather  had  prevented  the 
King  from  receiving  intelligence  of  what  had  occurred.  At 
length  it  was  conveyed  to  him  in  Ireland,  and  he  sent  over 
the  EARL  OF  SALISBURY,  who,  landing  at  Conway,  rallied  the 
Welshmen,  and  waited  for  the  King  a  whole  fortnight ;  at  the 
end  of  that  time  the  Welshmen,  who  were  perhaps  not  very 
warm  for  him  in  the  beginning,  quite  cooled  down  and  went 
home.  When  the  King  did  land  on  the  coast  at  last,  he  came 
with  a  pretty  good  power,  but  his  men  cared  nothing  for  him, 
and  quickly  deserted.  Supposing  the  Welshmen  to  be  still  at 
Conway,  he  disguised  himself  as  a  priest,  and  made  for  that 


204  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

place  in  company  with  his  two  brothers  and  some  few  of  their 
adherents.  But,  there  were  no  Welshmen  left  —  only  Salis- 
bury and  a  hundred  soldiers.  In  this  distress,  the  King's  two 
brothers,  Exeter  and  Surrey,  offered  to  go  to  Henry  to  learn 
what  his  intentions  were.  Surrey,  who  was  true  to  Richard, 
was  put  into  prison.  Exeter,  who  was  false,  took  the  royal 
badge,  which  was  a  hart,  off  his  shield,  and  assumed  the  rose, 
the  badge  of  Henry.  After  this,  it  was  prett}'  plain  to  the 
King  what  Henry's  intentions  were,  without  sending  an}'  more 
messengers  to  ask. 

The  fallen  King,  thus  deserted  —  hemmed  in  on  all  sides, 
and  pressed  with  hunger  —  rode  here  and  rode  there,  and 
went  to  this  castle,  and  went  to  that  castle,  endeavoring  to 
obtain  some  provisions,  but  could  find  none.  He  rode 
wretchedly  back  to  Conway,  and  there  surrendered  himself  to 
the  Earl  of  Northumberland,  who  came"  from  Henr}*,  in  reality 
to  take  him  prisoner,  but  in  appearance  to  offer  terms  ;  and 
whose  men  were  hidden  not  far  off.  By  this  earl  he  was 
conducted  to  the  castle  of  Flint,  where  his  cousin  Hemy  met 
him,  and  dropped  on  his  knee  as  if  he  were  still  respectful  to 
his  sovereign. 

"  Fair  cousin  of  Lancaster,"  said  the  King,  "  }-ou  are  very 
welcome  "  (very  welcome,  no  doubt ;  but  he  would  have  been 
more  so,  in  chains  or  without  a  head) . 

"  My  lord,"  replied  Henry,  "  I  am  come  a  little  before  my 
time  ;  but,  with  your  good  pleasure,  I  will  show  you  the  rea- 
son. Your  people  complain  with  some  bitterness,  that  you 
have  ruled  them  rigorously  for  two-and-twent}7  j-ears.  Now, 
if  it  please  God,  I  will  help  you  to  govern  them  better  in 
future." 

"  Fair  cousin,"  replied  the  abject  King,  "  since  it  pleaseth 
you,  it  pleaseth  me  mightily." 

After  this,  the  trumpets  sounded,  and  the  King  was  stuck 
on  a  wretched  horse,  and  carried  prisoner  to  Chester,  where 
he  was  made  to  issue  a  proclamation,  calling  a  Parliament. 
From  Chester  he  was  taken  on  towards  London.  At  Lichfield 


RICHARD   THE   SECOND.  205 

he  tried  to  escape  by  getting  out  of  a  window  and  letting 
himself  clown  into  a  garden  ;  it  was  all  in  vain,  however,  and 
he  was  carried  on  and  shut  up  in  the  Tower,  where  no  one 
pitied  him,  and  where  the  whole  people,  whose  patience  he 
had  quite  tired  out,  reproached  him  without  mercy.  Before 
he  got  there,  it  is  related,  that  his  very  dog  left  him  and  de- 
parted from  his  side  to  lick  the  hand  of  Henry. 

The  day  before  the  Parliament  met,  a  deputation  went  to 
this  wrecked  King,  and  told  him  that  he  had  promised  the 
Earl  of  Northumberland  at  Conway  Castle  to  resign  the 
crown.  He  said  he  was  quite  ready  to  do  it,  and  signed  a 
paper  in  which  he  renounced  his  authority  and  absolved  his 
people  from  their  allegiance  to  him.  He  had  so  little  spirit 
left  that  he  gave  his  royal  ring  to  his  triumphant  cousin 
Henry  with  his  own  hand,  and  said,  that  if  he  could  have  had 
leave  to  appoint  a  successor,  that  same  Henry  was  the  man 
of  all  others  whom  he  would  have  named.  Next  day,  the 
Parliament  assembled  in  Westminster  Hall,  where  Henry  sat 
at  the  side  of  the  throne,  which  was  empty  and  covered  with 
a  cloth  of  gold.  The  paper  just  signed  by  the  King  was  read 
to  the  multitude  amid  shouts  of  joy,  which  were  echoed 
through  all  the  streets ;  when  some  of  the  noise  had  died 
away,  the  King  was  formally  deposed.  Then  Henry  arose, 
and,  making  the  sign  of  the  cross  on  his  forehead  and  breast, 
challenged  the  realm  of  England  as  his  right ;  the  archbishops 
of  Canterbury  and  York  seated  him  on  the  throne. 

The  multitude  shouted  again,  and  the  shouts  re-echoed 
throughout  all  the  streets.  No  one  remembered,  now,  that 
Richard  the  Second  had  ever  been  the  most  beautiful,  the 
wisest,  and  the  best  of  princes  ;  and  he  now  made  living  (to 
nry  thinking)  a  far  more  sorry  spectacle  in  the  Tower  of 
London,  than  Wat  Tyler  had  made,  lying  dead,  among  the 
hoofs  of  the  royal  horses  in  Smithfield. 

The  Poll-tax  died  with  Wat.  The  Smiths  to  the  King  and 
Royal  Family  could  make  no  chains  in  which  the  King  could 
hang  the  people's  recollection  of  him  ;  so  the  Poll-tax  was 
never  collected. 


206  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER    XX. 

ENGLAND    TINDER    HENRY   THE    FOURTH,    CALLED    BOLINGBROKE. 

DURING  the  last  reign,  the  preaching  of  Wickliffe  against 
the  pride  and  cunning  of  the  Pope  and  all  his  men,  had  made 
a  great  noise  in  England.  Whether  the  new  King  wished  to 
be  in  favor  with  the  priests,  or  whether  he  hoped,  by  pre- 
tending to  be  very  religious,  to  cheat  Heaven  itself  into  the 
belief  that  he  was  not  an  usurper,  I  don't  know.  Both  suppo- 
sitions are  likely  enough.  It  is  certain  that  he  began  his 
reign  by  making  a  strong  show  against  the  followers  of 
Wickliffe,  who  were  called  Lollards  or  heretics  —  although 
his  father,  John  of  Gaunt,  had  been  of  that  way  of  thinking, 
as  he  himself  had  been  more  than  suspected  of  being.  It  is 
no  less  certain  that  he  first  established  in  England  the  detest- 
able and  atrocious  custom,  brought  from  abroad,  of  burning 
those  people  as  a  punishment  for  their  opinions.  It  was  the 
importation  into  England  of  one  of  the  practices  of  what 
was  called  the  Holy  Inquisition :  which  was  the  most  un- 
holy and  the  most  infamous  tribunal  that  ever  disgraced 
mankind,  and  made  men  more  like  demons  than  followers  of 
Our  Saviour. 

No  real  right  to  the  crown,  as  you  know,  was  in  this  King. 
Edward  Mortimer,  the  young  Earl  of  March  —  who  was  only 
eight  or  nine  years  old,  and  who  was  descended  from  the 
Duke  of  Clarence,  the  elder  brother  of  Henry's  father  —  was, 
by  succession,  the  real  heir  to  the  throne.  However,  the 
King  got  his  son  declared  Prince  of  Wales ;  and,  obtaining 
possession  of  the  young  Earl  of  March  and  his  little  brother, 
kept  them  in  confinement  (but  not  severely)  in  Windsor  Cas- 


HENRY   THE   FOURTH.  207 

tie.  He  then  required  the  Parliament  to  decide  what  was  to 
be  done  with  the  deposed  King,  who  was  quiet  enough,  and 
who  only  said  that  he  hoped  his  cousin  Henry  would  be  "  a 
good  lord  "  to  him.  The  Parliament  replied  that  they  would 
recommend  his  being  kept  in  some  secret  place  where  the 
people  could  not  resort,  and  where  his  friends  could  not  be 
admitted  to  see  him.  Henry  accordingly  passed  this  sentence 
upon  him,  and  it  now  began  to  be  pretty  clear  to  the  nation 
that  Richard  the  Second  would  not  live  very  long. 

It  was  a  noisy  Parliament,  as  it  was  an  unprincipled  one, 
and  the  Lords  quarrelled  so  violently  among  themselves  as  to 
which  of  them  had  been  loyal  and  which  disktyal,  and  which 
consistent  and  which  inconsistent,  that  fort}'  gauntlets  are 
said  to  have  been  thrown  upon  the  floor  at  one  time  as  chal- 
lenges to  as  many  battles  :  the  truth  being  that  they  were  all 
false  and  base  together,  and  had  been,  at  one  time  with  the 
old  King,  and  at  another  time  with  the  new  one,  and  seldom 
true  for  any  length  of  time  to  any  one.  The}r  soon  began  to 
plot  again.  A  conspiracy  was  formed  to  invite  the  King  to  a 
tournament  at  Oxford,  and  then  to  take  him  by  surprise  and 
kill  him.  This  murderous  enterprise,  which  was  agreed  upon 
at  secret  meetings  in  the  house  of  the  Abbot  of  Westminster, 
was  betrayed  by  the  Earl  of  Rutland  —  one  of  the  conspira- 
tors. The  King,  instead  of  going  to  the  tournament  or  stay- 
ing at  Windsor  (where  the  conspirators  suddenly  went,  on 
finding  themselves  discovered,  with  the  hope  of  seizing  him), 
retired  to  London,  proclaimed  them  all  traitors,  and  advanced 
upon  them  with  a  great  force.  They  retired  into  the  west  of 
England,  proclaiming  Richard  King ;  but,  the  people  rose 
against  them,  and  they  were  all  slain.  Their  treason  hastened 
the  death  of  the  deposed  monarch.  Whether  he  was  killed 
by  hired  assassins,  or  whether  he  was  starved  to  death,  or 
whether  he  refused  food  on  hearing  of  his  brothers  being 
killed  (who  were  in  that  plot) ,  is  very  doubtful.  He  met  his 
death  somehow ;  and  his  body  was  publicly  shown  at  St. 
Paul's  Cathedral  with  only  the  lower  part  of  the  face  un- 


208  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

covered.  I  can  scarcely  doubt  that  he  was  killed  b}T  the 
King's  orders. 

The  French  wife  of  the  miserable  Richard  was  now  only 
ten  years  old  ;  and,  when  her  father,  Charles  of  France, 
heard  of  her  misfortunes  and  of  her  lonely  condition  in  Eng- 
land, he  went  mad :  as  he  had  several  times  done  before, 
during  the  last  five  or  six  years.  The  French  Dukes  of  Bur- 
gundy and  Bourbon  took  up  the  poor  girl's  cause,  without 
caring  much  about  it,  but  on  the  chance  of  getting  something 
out  of  England.  The  people  of  Bordeaux,  who  had  a  sort 
of  superstitious  attachment  to  the  memory  of  Richard,  be- 
cause he  was  born  there,  swore  b3*  the  Lord  that  he  had  been 
the  best  man  in  all  his  kingdom  —  which  was  going  rather  far 
—  and  promised  to  do  great  things  against  the  English. 
Nevertheless,  when  they  came  to  consider  that  they,  and  the 
whole  people  of  France,  were  mined  b}-  their  own  nobles,  and 
that  the  English  rule  was  much  the  better  of  the  two,  they 
cooled  down  again ;  and  the  two  dukes,  although  they  were 
very  great  men,  could  do  nothing  without  them.  Then,  be- 
gan negotiations  between  France  and  England  for  the  sending 
home  to  Paris  of  the  poor  little  Queen  with  all  her  jewels  and 
her  fortune  of  two  hundred  thousand  francs  in  gold.  The 
King  was  quite  willing  to  restore  the  young  lad}*,  and  even 
the  jewels ;  but  he  said  he  really  could  not  part  with  the 
mone}-.  So,  at  last  she  was  safely  deposited  at  Paris  without 
her  fortune,  and  then  the  Duke  of  Burgundy  (who  was  cousin 
to  the  French  King)  began  to  quarrel  with  the  Duke  of  Or- 
leans (who  was  brother  to  the  French  King)  about  the  whole 
matter  ;  and  those  two  dukes  made  France  even  more  wretched 
than  ever. 

As  the  idea  of  conquering  Scotland  was  still  popular  at 
home,  the  King  marched  to  the  river  Tyne  and  demanded 
homage  of  the  King  of  that  country.  This  being  refused,  he 
advanced  to  Edinburgh,  but  did  little  there ;  for,  his  array 
being  in  want  of  provisions,  and  the  Scotch  being  very  care- 
ful to  hold  him  in  check  without  giving  battle,  he  was  obliged 


HENRY   THE   FOURTH.  209 

to  retire.  It  is  to  his  immortal  honor  that  in  this  sally  he 
burnt  no  villages  and  slaughtered  no  people,  but  was  particu- 
larly careful  that  his  arm}-  should  be  merciful  and  harmless. 
It  was  a  great  example  in  those  ruthless  times. 

A  war  among  the  border  people  of  England  and  Scotland 
went  on  for  twelve  months,  and  then  the  Earl  of  Northumber- 
land, the  nobleman  who  had  helped  Henry  to  the  crown,  be- 
gan to  rebel  against  him  —  probably  because  nothing  that 
Henry  could  do  for  him  would  satisfy  his  extravagant  expec- 
tations. There  was  a  certain  Welsh  gentleman,  named  OWEN 
GLENDOWER,  who  had  been  a  student  in  one  of  the  Inns  of 
Court,  and  had  afterwards  been  in  the  service  of  the  late 
King,  whose  Welsh  property  was  taken  from  him  by  a  power- 
ful lord  related  to  the  present  King,  who  was  his  neighbor. 
Appealing  for  redress,  and  getting  none,  he  took  up  arms, 
was  made  an  outlaw,  and  declared  himself  sovereign  of  Wales. 
He  pretended  to  be  a  magician  ;  and  not  only  were  the  Welsh 
people  stupid  enough  to  believe  him,  but,  even  Henry  be- 
lieved him  too :  for,  making  three  expeditions  into  Wales, 
and  being  three  times  driven  back  by  the  wildness  of  the 
Country,  the  bad  weather,  and  the  skill  of  Glendower,  he 
thought  he  was  defeated  by  the  Welshman's  magic  arts. 
However,  he  took  Lord  Grey  and  Sir  Edmund  Mortimer, 
prisoners,  and  allowed  the  relatives  of  Lord  Grey  to  ran- 
som him,  but  would  not  extend  such  favor  to  Sir  Edmund 
Mortimer.  Now,  Henry  Percy,  called  HOTSPUR,  son  of  the 
Earl  of  Northumberland,  who  was  married  to  Mortimer's 
sister,  is  supposed  to  have  taken  offence  at  this ;  and,  there- 
fore, in  conjunction  with  his  father  and  some  others,  to  have 
joined  Owen  Glendower,  and  risen  against  Henry.  It  is  by 
no  means  clear  that  this  was  the  real  cause  of  the  conspiracj' ; 
but  perhaps  it  was  made  the  pretext.  It  was  formed,  and 
was  ver}'  powerful ;  including  SCROOP,  Archbishop  of  York, 
and  the  EARL  OF  DOUGLAS,  a  powerful  and  brave  Scottish 
nobleman.  The  King  was  prompt  and  active,  and  the  two 
armies  met  at  Shrewsbury. 

14 


210  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

There  were  about  fourteen  thousand  men  in  each.  The 
old  Earl  of  Northumberland  being  sick,  the  rebel  forces  were 
led  by  his  son.  The  King  wore  plain  armor  to  deceive  the 
enemy ;  and  four  noblemen,  with  the  same  object,  wore  the 
royal  arms.  The  rebel  charge  was  so  furious,  that  every 
one  of  those  gentlemen  was  killed,  the  royal  standard  was 
beaten  down,  and  the  young  Prince  of  Wales  was  severely 
wounded  in  the  face.  But  he  was  one  of  the  bravest  and 
best  soldiers  that  ever  lived,  and  he  fought  so  well,  and  the 
King's  troops  were  so  encouraged  by  his  bold  example,  that 
they  rallied  immediate!}-,  and  cut  the  enemy's  forces  all  to 
pieces.  Hotspur  was  killed  by  an  arrow  in  the  brain,  and  the 
rout  was  so  complete  that  the  whole  rebellion  was  struck  down 
by  this  one  blow.  The  Earl  of  Northumberland  surrendered 
himself  soon  after  hearing  of  the  death  of  his  son,  and  received 
a  pardon  for  all  his  offences. 

There  were  some  lingerings  of  rebellion  yet :  Owen  Glen- 
dower  being  retired  to  Wales,  and  a  preposterous  stor}T  being 
spread  among  the  ignorant  people  that  King  Richard  was  still 
alive.  How  they  could  have  believed  such  nonsense  it  is 
difficult  to  imagine  ;  but  they  certainly  did  suppose  that  the 
Court  fool  of  the  late  King,  who  was  something  like  him,  was 
he,  himself;  so  that  it  seemed  as  if,  after  giving  so  much 
trouble  to  the  country  in  his  life,  he  was  still  to  trouble  it 
after  his  death.  This  was  not  the  worst.  The  young  Earl 
of  March  and  his  brother  were  stolen  out  of  Windsor  Castle. 
Being  retaken,  and.  being  found  to  have  been  spirited  away 
by  one  Lad}-  Spencer,  she  accused  her  own  brother,  that  Earl 
of  Rutland  who  was  in  the  former  conspiracy  and  was  now 
Duke  of  York,  of  being  in  the  plot.  For  this  lie  was  ruined 
in  fortune,  though  not  put  to  death ;  and  then  another  plot 
arose  among  the  old  Earl  of  Northumberland,  some  other 
lords,  and  that  same  Scroop,  Archbishop  of  York,  who  was 
with  the  rebels  before.  These  conspirators  caused  a  writing 
to  be  posted  on  the  church  doors,  accusing  the  King  of  a  va- 
riety of  crimes ;  but,  the  King  being  eager  and  vigilant  to 


HENRY  THE   FOURTH.  211 

oppose  them,  they  were  all  taken,  and  the  Archbishop  was 
executed.  This  was  the  first  time  that  a  great  churchman 
had  been  slain  by  the  law  in  England  ;  but  the  King  was  re- 
solved that  it  should  be  done,  and  done  it  was. 

The  next  most  remarkable  event  of  this  time  was  the  seiz- 
ure, by  Henry,  of  the  heir  to  the  Scottish  throne  —  James, 
a  boy  of  nine  years  old.  He  had  been  put  aboard-ship  by  his 
father,  the  Scottish  King  Robert,  to  save  him  from  the  de- 
signs of  his  uncle,  when,  on  his  way  to  France,  he  was  acci- 
dentally taken  by  some  English  cruisers.  He  remained  a 
prisoner  in  England  for  nineteen  years,  and  became  in  his 
prison  a  student  and  a  famous  poet. 

With  the  exception  of  occasional  troubles  with  the  Welsh 
and  with  the  French,  the  rest  of  King  Henry's  reign  was  quiet 
enough.  But,  the  King  was  far  from  happy,  and  probably 
was  troubled  in  his  conscience  by  knowing  that  he  had 
usurped  the  crown,  and  had  occasioned  the  death  of  his  mis- 
erable cousin.  The  Prince  of  Wales,  though  brave  and  gen- 
erous, is  said  to  have  been  wild  and  dissipated,  and  even  to 
have  drawn  his  sword  on  GASCOIGNE,  the  Chief  Justice  of  the 
King's  Bench,  because  he  was  firm  in  dealing  impartially  with 
one  of  his  dissolute  companions.  Upon  this  the  Chief  Justice 
is  said  to  have  ordered  him  immediately  to  prison  ;  the  Prince 
of  Wales  is  said  to  have  submitted  with  a  good  grace ;  and 
the  King  is  said  to  have  exclaimed,  "  Happy  is  the  monarch 
who  has  so  just  a  judge,  and  a  son  so  willing  to  obey  the 
laws."  This  is  all  very  doubtful,  and  so  is  another  story  (of 
which  Shakespeare  has  made  beautiful  use) ,  that  the  Prince 
once  took  the  crown  out  of  his  father's  chamber  as  he  was 
sleeping,  and  tried  it  on  his  own  head. 

The  King's  health  sank  more  and  more,  and  he  became 
subject  to  violent  eruptions  on  the  face  and  to  bad  epileptic 
fits,  and  his  spirits  sank  every  day.  At  last,  as  he  was  pray- 
ing before  the  shrine  of  St.  Edward  at  Westminster  Abbey, 
he  was  seized  with  a  terrible  fit,  and  was  carried  into  the 
Abbot's  chamber,  where  he  presently  died.  It  had  been  fore- 


212  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

told  that  he  would  die  at  Jerusalem,  which  certainly  is  not, 
and  never  was,  Westminster.  But,  as  the  Abbot's  room  had 
long  been  called  the  Jerusalem  chamber,  people  said  it  was 
all  the  same  thing,  and  were  quite  satisfied  with  the  pre- 
diction. 

The  King  died  on  the  20th  of  March,  1413,  in  the  forty- 
seventh  year  of  his  age,  and  the  fourteenth  of  his  reign. 
He  was  buried  in  Canterbury  Cathedral.  He  had  been  twice 
married,  and  had,  by  his  first  wife,  a  family  of  four  sons  and 
two  daughters.  Considering  his  duplicity  before  he  came  to 
the  throne,  his  unjust  seizure  of  it,  and,  above  all,  his  making 
that  monstrous  law  for  the  burning  of  what  the  priests  called 
heretics,  he  was  a  reasonably  good  king,  as  kings  went. 


HENRY  THE   FIFTH.  213 


CHAPTER  XXL 

ENGLAND    UNDER   HENRY   THE    FIFTH. 

FIRST  PART. 

THE  Prince  of  Wales  began  his  reign  like  a  generous  and 
honest  man.  He  set  the  3'oung  Earl  of  March  free ;  he  re- 
stored their  estates  and  their  honors  to  the  Percy  family,  who 
had  lost  them  by  their  rebellion  against  his  father  ;  he  ordered 
the  imbecile  and  unfortunate  Richard  to  be  honorably  buried 
among  the  Kings  of  England  ;  and  he  dismissed  all  his  wild 
companions,  with  assurances  that  they  should  not  want,  if 
they  would  resolve  to  be  steady,  faithful,  and  true. 

It  is  much  easier  to  burn  men  than  to  burn  their  opinions  ; 
and  those  of  the  Lollards  were  spreading  even-  day.  The 
Lollards  were  represented  by  the  priests  —  probably  falsely 
for  the  most  part  —  to  entertain  treasonable  designs  against 
the  new  King ;  and  Henry,  suffering  himself  to  be  worked 
upon  by  these  representations,  sacrificed  his  friend  Sir  John 
Oldcastle,  the  Lord  Cobham,  to  them,  after  toying  in  vain  to 
convert  him  by  arguments.  He  was  declared  guilty,  as  the 
head  of  the  sect,  and  sentenced  to  the  flames  ;  but  he  escaped 
from  the  Tower  before  the  day  of  execution  (postponed  for 
fifty  days  by  the  King  himself),  and  summoned  the  Lollards 
to  meet  him  near  London  on  a  certain  day.  So  the  priests 
told  the  King,  at  least.  I  doubt  whether  there  was  any  con- 
spiracy beyond  such  as  was  got  up  by  their  agents.  On  the 
day  appointed,  instead  of  five-and-twenty  thousand  men, 
under  the  command  of  Sir  John  Oldcastle,  in  the  meadows  of 
St.  Giles,  the  King  found  only  eighty  men,  and  no  Sir  John 


214  A   CHILD'S  HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

at  all.  There  was,  in  another  place,  an  addle-headed  brewer, 
who  had  gold  trappings  to  his  horses,  and  a  pair  of  gilt  spurs 
in  his  breast  —  expecting  to  be  made  a  knight  next  day  by 
Sir  John,  and  so  to  gain  the  right  to  wear  them  —  but  there 
was  no  Sir  John,  nor  did  anybody  give  information  respecting 
him,  though  the  King  offered  great  rewards  for  such  intelli- 
gence. Thirty  of  these  unfortunate  Lollards  were  hanged 
and  drawn  immediately,  and  were  then  burnt,  gallows  and 
all ;  and  the  various  prisons  in  and  around  London  were 
crammed  full  of  others.  Some  of  these  unfortunate  men 
made  various  confessions  of  treasonable  designs ;  but  such 
confessions  were  easily  got,  under  torture  and  the  fear  of 
fire,  and  are  very  little  to  be  trusted.  To  finish  the  sad  story 
of  Sir  John  Oldcastle  at  once,  I  may  mention  that  he  escaped 
into  Wales,  and  remained  there  safely,  for  four  years.  When 
discovered  by  Lord  Powis,  it  is  very  doubtful  if  he  would 
have  been  taken  alive  —  so  great  was  the  old  soldier's  bravery 
—  if  a  miserable  old  woman  had  not  come  behind  him  and 
broken  his  legs  with  a  stool.  He  was  carried  to  London  in  a 
horse-litter,  was  fastened  by  an  iron  chain  to  a  gibbet,  and 
so  roasted  to  death. 

To  make  the  state  of  France  as  plain  as  I  can  in  a  few 
words,  I  should  tell  you  that  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  and  the 
Duke  of  Burgundy,  commonly  called  "John  without  fear," 
had  had  a  grand  reconciliation  of  their  quarrel  in  the  last 
reign,  and  had  appeared  to  be  quite  in  a  heavenly  state  of 
mind.  Immediately  after  which,  on  a  Sunday,  in  the  public 
streets  of  Paris,  the  Duke  of  Orleans  was  murdered  by  a 
party  of  twenty  men,  set  on  by  the  Duke  of  Burgundy  - 
according  to  his  own  deliberate  confession.  The  widow  of 
King  Richard  had  been  married  in  France  to  the  eldest  son 
of  the  Duke  of  Orleans.  The  poor  mad  King  was  quite 
powerless  to  help  her,  and  the  Duke  of  Burgundy  became 
the  real  master  of  France.  Isabella  dying,  her  husband 
(Duke  of  Orleans  since  the  death  of  his  father)  married  the 
daughter  of  the  Count  of  Armagnac,  who,  being  a  much 


HENRY  THE  FIFTH.  215 

abler  man  than  his  3'oung  son-in-law,  headed  his  party ; 
thence  called  after  him  Armagnacs.  Thus,  France  was  now 
in  this  terrible  condition,  that  it  had  in  it  the  party  of  the 
King's  son,  the  Dauphin  Louis  ;  the  party  of  the  Duke  of 
Burgundy,  who  was  the  father  of  the  Dauphin's  ill-used  wife  ; 
and  the  party  of  the  Armagnacs ;  all  hating  each  other ;  all 
fighting  together  ;  all  composed  of  the  most  depraved  nobles 
that  the  earth  has  ever  known ;  and  all  tearing  unhappy 
France  to  pieces. 

The  late  King  had  watched  these  dissensions  from  Eng- 
land, sensible  (like  the  French  people)  that  no  enemy  of 
France  could  injure  her  more  than  her  own  nobility.  The 
present  King  now  advanced  a  claim  to  the  French  throne. 
His  demand  being,  of  course,  refused,  he  reduced  his  pro- 
posal to  a  certain  large  amount  of  French  territory,  and  to 
demanding  the  French  princess,  Catherine,  in  marriage,  with 
a  fortune  of  two  millions  of  golden  crowns.  He  was  offered 
less  territory  and  fewer  crowns,  and  no  princess ;  but  he 
called  his  ambassadors  home  and  prepared  for  war.  Then, 
he  proposed  to  take  the  princess  with  one  million  of  crowns. 
The  French  Court  replied  that  he  should  have  the  princess 
with  two  hundred  thousand  crowns  less ;  he  said  this  would 
not  do  (he  had  never  seen  the  princess  in  his  life),  and 
assembled  his  army  at  Southampton.  There  was  a  short 
plot  at  home  just  at  that  time,  for  deposing  him,  and  making 
the  Earl  of  March  king ;  but  the  conspirators  were  all  speed- 
ily condemned  and  executed,  and  the  King  embarked  for 
France. 

It  is  dreadful  to  observe  how  long  a  bad  example  will  be 
followed ;  but,  it  is  encouraging  to  know  that  a  good  exam- 
ple is  never  thrown  awa}r.  The  King's  first  act  on  disem- 
barking at  the  mouth  of  the  river  Seine,  three  miles  from 
Harfleur,  was  to  imitate  his  father,  and  to  proclaim  his  sol- 
emn orders  that  the  lives  and  property  of  the  peaceable 
inhabitants  should  be  respected  on  pain  of  death.  It  is 
agreed  by  French  writers,  to  his  lasting  renown,  that  even 


216  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

while  his  soldiers  were  suffering  the  greatest  distress  from 
want  of  food,  these  commands  were  rigidly  obeyed. 

With  an  army  in  all  of  thirty  thousand  men,  he  besieged 
the  town  of  Harfleur  both  by  sea  and  land  for  five  weeks  ;  at 
the  end  of  which  time  the  town  surrendered,  and  the  inhabi- 
tants were  allowed  to  depart  with  only  fivepence  each,  and  a 
part  of  their  clothes.  All  the  rest  of  their  possessions  was 
divided  amongst  the  English  army.  But  that  army  suffered 
so  much  in  spite  of  its  successes,  from  disease  and  privation, 
that  it  was  already  reduced  one  half.  Still,  the  King  was 
determined  not  to  retire  until  he  had  struck  a  greater  blow. 
Therefore,  against  the  advice  of  all  his  counsellors,  he  moved 
on  with  his  little  force  towards  -Calais.  When  he  came  up  to 
the  river  Somme  he  was  unable  to  cross,  in  consequence  of 
the  ford  being  fortified ;  and,  as  the  English  moved  up  the 
left  bank  of  the  river  looking  for  a  crossing,  the  French,  who 
had  broken  all  the  bridges,  moved  up  the  right  bank,  watch- 
ing them,  and  waiting  to  attack  them  when  they  should  try 
to  pass  it.  At  last  the  English  found  a  crossing  and  got 
safely  over.  The  French  held  a  council  of  war  at  Rouen, 
resolved  to  give  the  English  battle,  and  sent  heralds  to  King 
Henry  to  know  by  which  road  he  was  going.  "  By  the  road 
that  will  take  me  straight  to  Calais !  "  said  the  King,  and 
sent  them  away  with  a  present  of  a  hundred  crowns. 

The  English  moved  on,  until  they  beheld  the  French,  and 
then  the  King  gave  orders  to  form  in  line  of  battle.  The 
French  not  coming  on,  the  army  broke  up  after  remaining  in 
battle  array  till  night,  and  got  good  rest  and  refreshment  at 
a  neighboring  village.  The  French  were  now  all  lying  in 
another  village,  through  which  the}*  knew  the  English  must 
pass.  They  were  resolved  that  the  English  should  begin  the 
battle.  The  English  had  no  means  of  retreat,  if  their  King 
had  any  such  intention ;  and  so  the  two  armies  passed  the 
night  close  together. 

To  understand  these  armies  well,  you  must  bear  in  mind 
that  the  immense  French  arm}-  had,  among  its  notable  per- 


HENRY   THE   FIFTH.  217 

sons,  almost  the  whole  of  that  wicked  nobility,  whose  de- 
bauchery had  made  France  a  desert ;  and  so  besotted  were 
they  by  pride,  and  by  contempt  for  the  common  people,  that 
the}'  had  scarcely  any  bowmen  (if  indeed  they  had  any  at  all) 
in  their,  whole  enormous  number :  which,  compared  with  the 
English  army,  was  at  least  as  six  to  one.  For  these  proud 
fools  had  said  that  the  bow  was  not  a  fit  weapon  for  knightly 
hands,  and  that  France  must  be  defended  by  gentlemen 
only.  "We  shall  see,  presently,  what  hand  the  gentlemen 
made  of  it. 

Now,  on  the  English  side,  among  the  little  force,  there 
was  a  good  proportion  of  men  who  were  not  gentlemen 
by  any  means,  but  who  were  good  stout  archers  for  all  that. 
Among  them  in  the  morning  —  having  slept  little  at  night, 
while  the  French  were  carousing  and  making  sure  of  victory 
—  the  King  rode,  on  a  gray  horse ;  wearing  on  his  head  a 
helmet  of  shining  steel,  surmounted  by  a  crown  of  gold, 
sparkling  with  precious  stones  ;  and  bearing  over  his  armor, 
embroidered  together,  the  arms  of  England  and  the  arms  of 
France.  The  archers  looked  at  the  shining  helmet  and  the 
crown  of  gold  and  the  sparkling  jewels,  and  admired  them 
all ;  but,  what  they  admired  most  was  the  King's  cheerful 
face,  and  his  bright  blue  e}'e,  as  he  told  them  that,  for  him- 
self, he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  conquer  there  or  to  die 
there,  and  that  England  should  never  have  a  ransom  to  pay 
for  him.  There  was  one  brave  knight  who  chanced  to  say 
that  he  wished  some  of  the  many  gallant  gentlemen  and 
good  soldiers,  who  were  then  idle  at  home  in  England  were 
there  to  increase  their  numbers.  But  the  King  told  him  that, 
for  his  part,  he  did  not  wish  for  one  more  man.  "  The  fewer 
we  have,"  said  he,  "the  greater  will  be  the  honor  we  shall 
win ! "  His  men,  being  now  all  in  good  heart,  were  re- 
freshed with  bread  and  wine,  and  heard  prayers,  and  waited 
quietly  for  the  French.  The  King  waited  for  the  French, 
because  they  were  drawn  up  thirty  deep  (the  little  English 
force  was  only  three  deep),  on  very  difficult  and  heavy 


218  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF   ENGLAND. 

ground  ;  and  he  knew  that  when  they  moved,  there  must  be 
confusion  among  them. 

As  they  did  not  move,  he  sent  off  two  parties:  —  one  to 
lie  concealed  in  a  wood  on  the  left  of  the  French  :  the  other, 
to  set  fire  to  some  houses  behind  the  French  after  the  battle 
should  be  begun.  This  was  scarceby  done,  when  three  of  the 
proud  French  gentlemen,  who  were  to  defend  their  country 
without  any  help  from  the  base  peasants,  came  riding  out, 
calling  upon  the  English  to  surrender.  The  King  warned 
those  gentlemen  himself  to  retire  with  all  speed  if  they  cared 
for  their  lives,  and  ordered  the  English  banners  to  advance. 
Upon  that,  Sir  Thomas  Erpingham,  a  great  English  general, 
•who  commanded  the  archers,  threw  his  truncheon  into  the 
air  joyfully ;  and  all  the  English  men,  kneeling  down  upon 
the  ground  and  biting  it  as  if  they  took  possession  of  the 
countiy,  rose  up  with  a  great  shout  and  fell  upon  the  French. 

Every  archer  was  furnished  with  a  great  stake  tipped  with 
iron ;  and  his  orders  were,  to  thrust  this  stake  into  the 
ground,  to  discharge  his  arrow,  and  then  to  fall  back,  when 
the  French  horsemen  came  on.  As  the  haughty  French 
gentlemen,  who  were  to  break  the  English  archers  and 
utterly  destroy  them  with  their  knightly  lances,  came  riding 
up,  they  were  received  with  such  a  blinding  storm  of  arrows 
that  they  broke  and  turned.  Horses  and  men  rolled  over 
one  another,  and  the  confusion  was  terrific.  Those  who 
rallied  and  charged  the  archers  got  among  the  stakes  on 
slippery  and  boggy  ground,  and  were  so  bewildered  that  the 
English  archers  —  who  wore  no  armor,  and  even  took  off 
their  leathern  coats  to  be  more  active  —  cut  them  to  pieces, 
root  and  branch.  Only  three  French  horsemen  got  within 
the  stakes,  and  those  were  instantly  despatched.  All  this 
time  the  dense  French  arnty,  being  in  armor,  were  sinking 
knee-deep  into  the  mire ;  while  the  light  English  archers, 
half-naked,  were  as  fresh  and  active  as  if  they  were  fighting 
on  a  marble  floor. 

But  now,  the  second  division  of  the  French  coming  to  the  re- 


HENRY   THE   FIFTH.  219 

lief  of  the  first,  closed  up  in  a  firm  mass  ;  the  English,  headed 
by  the  King,  attacked  them  ;  and  the  deadliest  part  of  the 
battle  began.  The  King's  brother,  the  Duke  of  Clarence,  was 
struck  down,  and  numbers  of  the  French  surrounded  him  ; 
but,  King  Henry,  standing  over  the  body,  fought  like  a  lion 
until  they  were  beaten  off. 

Presently,  came  up  a  band  of  eighteen  French  knights, 
bearing  the  banner  of  a  certain  French  lord,  who  had  sworn 
to  kill  or  take  the  English  King.  One  of  them  struck  him 
such  a  blow  with  a  battle-axe  that  he  reeled  and  fell  upon  his 
knees  ;  but  his  faithful  men,  immediately  closing  round  him, 
killed  every  one  of  those  eighteen  knights,  and  so  that  French 
lord  never  kept  his  oath. 

The  French  Duke  of  AlenQon,  seeing  this,  made  a  desperate 
charge,  and  cut  his  way  close  up  to  the  Royal  Standard  of 
England.  He  beat  down  the  Duke  of  York,  who  was  stand- 
ing near  it ;  and  when  the  King  came  to  his  rescue,  struck  off 
a  piece  of  the  crown  he  wore.  But,  he  never  struck  another 
blow  in  this  world  ;  for,  even  as  he  was  in  the  act  of  saying 
who  he  was,  and  that  he  surrendered  to  the  King ;  and  even 
as  the  King  stretched  out  his  hand  to  give  him  a  safe  and 
honorable  acceptance  of  the  offer ;  he  fell  dead,  pierced  by 
innumerable  wounds. 

The  death  of  this  nobleman  decided  the  battle.  The  third 
division  of  the  French  army,  which  had  never  struck  a  blow 
yet,  and  which  was,  in  itself,  more  than  double  the  whole 
English  power,  broke  and  fled.  At  this  time  of  the  fight,  the 
English,  who  as  yet  had  made  no  prisoners,  began  to  take 
them  in  immense  numbers,  and  were  still  occupied  in  doing 
so,  or  in  killing  those  who  would  not  surrender,  when  a  great 
noise  arose  in  the  rear  of  the  French  —  their  frying  banners 
were  seen  to  stop  —  and  King  Henry,  supposing  a  great  rein- 
forcement to  have  arrived,  gave  orders  that  all  the  prisoners 
should  be  put  to  death.  As  soon,  however,  as  it  was  found 
that  the  noise  was  only  occasioned  by  a  body  of  plundering 
peasants,  the  terrible  massacre  was  stopped. 


220  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

Then  King  Henry  called  to  him  the  French  herald,  and 
asked  him  to  whom  the  victor}'  belonged. 

The  herald  replied,  "  To  the  King  of  England." 

"  We  have  not  made  this  havoc  and  slaughter,"  said  the 
King.  "It  is  the  wrath  of  Heaven  on  the  sins  of  France. 
What  is  the  name  of  that  castle  yonder?  " 

The  herald  answered  him,  "  My  lord,  it  is  the  castle  of 
Azincourt." 

Said  the  King,  "  From  henceforth  this  battle  shall  be 
known  to  posterity,  by  the  name  of  the  battle  of  Azincourt." 

Our  English  historians  have  made  it  Agincourt ;  but,  under 
that  name,  it  will  ever  be  famous  in  English  annals. 

The  loss  upon  the  French  side  was  enormous.  Three 
Dukes  were  killed,  two  more  were  taken  prisoners,  seven 
Counts  were  killed,  three  more  were  taken  prisoners,  and  ten 
thousand  knights  and  gentlemen  were  slain  upon  the  field. 
The  English  loss  amounted  to  sixteen  hundred  men,  among 
whom  were  the  Duke  of  York  and  the  Earl  of  Suffolk. 

War  is  a  dreadful  thing ;  and  it  is  appalling  to  know  how 
the  English  were  obliged,  next  morning,  to  kill  those  pris- 
oners mortally  wounded,  who  yet  writhed  in  agony  upon  the 
ground ;  how  the  dead  upon  the  French  side  were  stripped 
by  their  own  countiymen  and  countrywomen,  and  afterwards 
buried  in  great  pits ;  how  the  dead  upon  the  English  side 
were  piled  up  in  a  great  barn,  and  how  their  bodies  and  the 
barn  were  all  burned  together.  It  is  in  such  things,  and  in 
many  more  much  too  horrible  to  relate,  that  the  real  desola- 
tion and  wickedness  of  war  consists.  Nothing  can  make  war 
otherwise  than  horrible.  But  the  dark  side  of  it  was  little 
thought  of  and  soon  forgotten  ;  and  it  cast  no  shade  of  trouble 
on  the  English  people,  except  on  those  who  had  lost  friends 
or  relations  in  the  fight.  They  welcomed  their  King  home 
with  skouts  of  rejoicing,  and  plunged  into  the  water  to  bear 
him  ashore  on  their  shoulders,  and  flocked  out  in  crowds  to 
welcome  him  in  every  town  through  which  he  passed,  and 
hung  rich  carpets  and  tapestries  out  of  the  windows,  and 


HENRY  THE   FIFTH.  221 

strewed  the  streets  with  flowers,  and  made  the  fountains 
run  with  wine,  as  the  great  field  of  Agincourt  had  run  with 
blood. 


SECOND  PART. 

THAT  proud  and  wicked  French  nobility  who  dragged  their 
country  to  destruction,  and  who  were  eveiy  da}'  and  every 
3'ear  regarded  with  deeper  hatred  and  detestation  in  the 
hearts  of  the  French  people,  learnt  nothing,  even  from  the 
defeat  of  Agincourt.  So  far  from  uniting  against  the  com- 
mon enemy,  they  became,  among  themselves,  more  violent, 
more  bloody,  and  more  false  —  if  that  were  possible  —  than 
they  had  been  before.  The  Count  of  Armagnac  persuaded 
the  French  king  to  plunder  of  her  treasures  Queen  Isabella  of 
Bavaria,  and  to  make  her  a  prisoner.  She,  who  had  hitherto 
been  the  bitter  enemy  of  the  Duke  of  Burgundy,  proposed  to 
join  him,  in  revenge.  He  carried  her  off  to  Troyes,  where 
she  proclaimed  herself  Regent  of  France,  and  made  him  her 
lieutenant.  The  Armagnac  party  were  at  that  time  possessed 
of  Paris ;  but,  one  of  the  gates  of  the  city  being  secretly 
opened  on  a  certain  night  to  a  party  of  the  duke's  men,  they 
got  into  Paris,  threw  into  the  prisons  all  the  Armagnacs 
upon  whom  they  could  lay  their  hands,  and,  a  few  nights 
afterwards,  with  the  aid  of  a  furious  mob  of  sixty  thousand 
people,  broke  the  prisons  open,  and  killed  them  all.  The 
former  Dauphin  was  now  dead,  and  the  King's  third  son 
bore  the  title.  Him,  in  the  height  of  this  murderous  scene, 
a  French  knight  hurried  out  of  bed,  wrapped  in  a  sheet,  and 
bore  away  to  Poitiers.  So,  when  the  revengeful  Isabella  and 
the  Duke  of  Burgundy  entered  Paris  in  triumph  after  the 
slaughter  of  their  enemies,  the  Dauphin  was  proclaimed  at 
Poitiers  as  the  real  Regent. 

King  Henr}-  had  not  been  idle  since  his  victory  of  Agin- 
court, but  had  repulsed  a  brave  attempt  of  the  French  to 
recover  Harfleur ;  had  gradually  conquered  a  great  part  of 


222  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

Normancty ;  and,  at  this  crisis  of  affairs,  took  the  important 
town  of  Rouen,  after  a  siege  of  half  a  year.  This  great  loss 
so  alarmed  the  French,  that  the  Duke  of  Burgundy  proposed 
that  a  meeting  to  treat  of  peace  should  be  held  between  the 
French  and  the  English  kings  in  a  plain  by  the  river  Seine. 
On  the  appointed  day,  King  Henry  appeared  there,  with  his 
two  brothers,  Clarence  and  Gloucester,  and  a  thousand  men. 
The  unfortunate  French  King,  being  more  mad  than  usual 
that  day,  could  not  come  ;  but  the  Queen  came,  and  with  her 
the  Princess  Catherine  :  who  was  a  ver}'  lovely  creature,  and 
who  made  a  real  impression  on  King  Henr3T,  now  that  he 
saw  her  for  the  first  time.  This  was  the  most  important 
circumstance  that  arose  out  of  the  meeting. 

As  if  it  were  impossible  for  a  French  nobleman  of  that 
time  to  be  true  to  his  word  of  honor  in  airvthing,  Hemy  dis- 
covered that  the  Duke  of  Burgundy  was,  at  that  very  moment, 
in  secret  treaty  with  the  Dauphin ;  and  he  therefore  aban- 
doned the  negotiation. 

The  Duke  of  Burgund}*  and  the  Dauphin,  each  of  whom 
with  the  best  reason  distrusted  the  other  as  a  noble  ruffian 
surrounded  by  a  party  of  noble  ruffians,  were  rather  at  a  loss 
how  to  proceed  after  this ;  but,  at  length  they  agreed  to  meet, 
on  a  bridge  over  the  river  Yonne,  where  it  was  arranged  that 
there  should  be  two  strong  gates  put  up,  with  an  empty  space 
between  them  ;  and  that  the  Duke  of  Burgundy  should  come 
into  that  space  by  one  gate,  with  ten  men  only  ;  and  that  the 
Dauphin  should  come  into  that  space  by  the  other  gate,  also 
with  ten  men,  and  no  more. 

So  far  the  Dauphin  kept  his  word,  but  no  farther.  When 
the  Duke  of  Burgundy  was  on  his  knee  before  him  in  the  act 
of  speaking,  one  of  the  Dauphin's  noble  ruffians  cut  the  said 
duke  down  with  a  small  axe,  and  others  speedily  finished 
him. 

It  was  in  vain  for  the  Dauphin  to  pretend  that  this  base 
murder  was  not  done  with  his  consent ;  it  was  too  bad,  even 
for  France,  and  caused  a  general  horror.  The  Duke's  heir 


HENRY   THE   FIFTH.  223 

hastened  to  make  a  treaty  with  King  Henry,  and  the  French 
Queen  engaged  that  her  husband  should  consent  to  it,  what- 
ever it  was.  Henry  made  peace,  on  condition  of  receiving 
the  Princess  Catherine  in  marriage,  and  being  made  Regent 
of  France  during  the  rest  of  the  King's  lifetime,  and  succeed- 
ing to  the  French  crown  at  his  death.  He  was  soon  married 
to  the  beautiful  Princess,  and  took  her  proudly  home  to  Eng- 
land, where  she  was  crowned  with  great  honor  and  glory. 

This  peace  was  called  the  Perpetual  Peace  ;  we  shall  soon 
see  how  long  it  lasted.  It  gave  great  satisfaction  to  the 
French  people,  although  they  were  so  poor  and  miserable, 
that,  at  the  time  of  the  celebration  of  the  Royal  marriage, 
numbers  of  them  were  d}-ing  of  starvation,  on  the  dunghills 
in  the  streets  of  Paris.  There  was  some  resistance  on  the 
part  of  the  Dauphin  in  some  few  parts  of  France,  but  King 
Henry  beat  it  all  down. 

And  now,  with  his  great  possessions  in  France  secured, 
and  his  beautiful  wife  to  cheer  him,  and  a  son  born  to  give 
him  greater  happiness,  all  appeared  bright  before  him.  But, 
in  the  fulness  of  his  triumph  and  the  height  of  his  power, 
Death  came  upon  him,  and  his  day  was  done.  When  he  fell 
ill  at  Vincennes,  and  found  that  he  could  not  recover,  he  was 
very  calm  and  quiet,  and  spoke  serenely  to  those  who  wept 
around  his  bed.  His  wife  and  child,  he  said,  he  left  to  the 
loving  care  of  his  brother,  the  Duke  of  Bedford,  and  his  other 
faithful  nobles.  He  gave  them  his  advice  that  England 
should  establish  a  friendship  with  the  new  Duke  of  Burgundy, 
and  offer  him  the  regency  of  France ;  that  it  should  not  set 
free  the  royal  princes  who  had  been  taken  at  Agincourt ;  and 
that,  whatever  quarrel  might  arise  with  France,  England 
should  never  make  peace  withput  holding  Normandj".  Then, 
he  laid  down  his  head,  and  asked  the  attendant  priests  to 
chant  the  penitential  psalms.  Amid  which  solemn  sounds, 
on  the  thirty-first  of  August,  one  thousand  four  hundred  and 
twenty -two,  in  only  the  thirty-fourth  year  of  his  age  and  the 
tenth  of  his  reign.  King  Henry  the  Fifth  passed  away. 


224  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

Slowly  and  mournfully  they  earned  his  embalmed  body  in 
a  procession  of  great  state  to  Paris,  and  thence  to  Rouen 
where  his  Queen  was :  from  whom  the  sad  intelligence  of  his 
deatli  was  concealed  until  he  had  been  dead  some  dajs. 
Thence,  lying  on  a  bed  of  crimson  and  gold,  with  a  golden 
crown  upon  the  head,  and  a  golden  ball  and  sceptre  lying  in 
the  nerveless  hands,  they  carried  it  to  Calais,  with  such  a 
great  retinue  as  seemed  to  dye  the  road  black.  The  King  of 
Scotland  acted  as  chief  mourner,  all  the  Ro}-al  Household 
followed,  the  knights  wore  black  armor  and  black  plumes  of 
feathers,  crowds  of  men  bore  torches,  making  the  night  as 
light  as  day ;  and  the  widowed  Princess  followed  last  of  all. 
At  Calais  there  was  a  fleet  of  ships  to  bring  the  funeral  host 
to  Dover.  And  so,  by  way  of  London  Bridge,  where  the 
service  for  the  dead  was  chanted  as  it  passed  along,  they 
brought  the  body  to  Westminster  Abbey,  and  there  buried  it 
with  great  respect. 


HENRY   THE   SIXTH.  225 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

ENGLAND    UNDER   HENRY   THE    SIXTH. 

PART  THE  FIRST. 

IT  had  been  the  wish  of  the  late  King,  that  while  his  infant 
son  KING  HENRY  THE  SIXTH,  at  this  time  only  nine  months 
old,  was  under  age,  the  Duke  of  Gloucester  should  be  ap- 
pointed Regent.  The  English  Parliament,  however,  preferred 
to  appoint  a  Council  of  Regency,  with  the  Dnke  of  Bedford 
at  its  head :  to  be  represented,  in  his  absence  only,  by  the 
Duke  of  Gloucester.  The  Parliament  would  seem  to  have 
been  wise  in  this,  for  Gloucester  soon  showed  himself  to  be 
ambitious  and  troublesome,  and,  in  the  gratification  of  his 
own  personal  schemes,  gave  dangerous  offence  to  the  Duke 
of  Burgundy,  which  was  with  difficulty  adjusted. 

As  that  duke  declined  the  Regency  of  France,  it  was  be- 
stowed by  the  poor  French  King  upon  the  Duke  of  Bedford. 
But,  the  French  King  dying  within  two  months,  the  Dauphin 
instantly  asserted  his  claim  to  the  French  throne,  and  was 
actually  crowned  under  the  title  of  CHARLES  THE  SEVENTH. 
The  Duke  of  Bedford,  to  be  a  match  for  him,  entered  into  a 
friendly  league  with  the  Dukes  of  Burgundy  and  Brittany, 
and  gave  them  his  two  sisters  in  marriage.  War  with  France 
was  immediately  renewed,  and  the  Perpetual  Peace  came  to 
an  untimely  end. 

In  the  first  campaign,  the  English,  aided  by  this  alliance, 
were  speedily  successful.  As  Scotland,  however,  had  sent 
the  French  five  thousand  men,  and  might  send  more,  or 
attack  the  North  of  England  while  England  was  busy  with 

15 


226  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

France,  it  was  considered  that  it  would  be  a  good  thing  to 
offer  the  Scottish  King,  James,  who  had  been  so  long  im- 
prisoned, his  liberty,  on  his  paj'ing  fort}7  thousand  pounds  for 
his  board  and  lodging  during  nineteen  years,  and  engaging  to 
forbid  his  subjects  from  serving  under  the  flag  of  France.  It 
is  pleasant  to  know,  not  only  that  the  amiable  captive  at  last 
regained  his  freedom  upon  these  terms,  but  that  he  married  a 
noble  English  lady,  with  whom  he  had  been  long  in  love,  and 
became  an  excellent  King.  I  am  afraid  we  have  met  with 
some  Kings  in  this  history,  and  shall  meet  with  some  more, 
who  would  have  been  very  much  the  better,  and  would  have 
left  the  world  much  happier,  if  they  had  been  imprisoned 
nineteen  years  too. 

In  the  second  campaign,  the  English  gained  a  considerable 
victory  at  Verneuil,  in  a  battle  which  was  chiefl}'  remarkable, 
otherwise,  for  their  resorting  to  the  odd  expedient  of  tying 
their  baggage-horses  together  by  the  heads  and  tails,  and 
jumbling  them  up  with  the  baggage,  so  as  to  convert  them 
into  a  sort  of  live  fortification  —  which  was  found  useful  to 
the  troops,  but  which  I  should  think  was  not  agreeable  to  the 
horses.  For  three  years  afterwards  very  little  was  done, 
owing  to  both  sides  being  too  poor  for  war,  which  is  a  very 
expensive  entertainment ;  but,  a  council  was  then  held  in 
Paris,  in  which  it  was  decided  to  lay  siege  to  the  town  of  Or- 
leans, which  was  a  place  of  great  importance  to  the  Dauphin's 
cause.  An  English  army  of  ten  thousand  men  was  despatched 
on  this  service,  under  the  command  of  the  Earl  of  Salisbury, 
a  general  of  fame.  He  being  unfortunately  killed  early  in 
the  siege,  the  Earl  of  Suffolk  took  his  place ;  under  whom 
(reinforced  b}-  SIR  JOHN  FALSTAFF,  who  brought  up  four 
hundred  wagons  laden  with  salt  herrings  and  other  pro- 
visions for  the  troops,  and,  beating  off  the  French  who  tried 
to  intercept  him,  came  victorious  out  of  a  hot  skirmish,  which 
was  afterwards  called  in  jest  the  battle  of  the  Herrings),  the 
town  of  Orleans  was  so  completely  hemmed  in,  that  the  be- 
sieged proposed  to  yield  it  up  to  their  countryman  the  Duke 


HENRY  THE   SIXTH.  227 

of  Burgundy.  The  English  general,  however,  replied  that  his 
English  men  had  won  it,  so  far,  by  their  blood  and  valor,  and 
that  his  English  men  must  have  it.  There  seemed  to  be  no 
hope  for  the  town,  or  for  the  Dauphin,  who  was  so  disused 
that  he  even  thought  of  flying  to  Scotland  or  to  Spain  —  when 
a  peasant  girl  rose  up  and  changed  the  whole  state  of  affairs. 
The  story  of  this  peasant  girl  I  have  now  to  tell. 


PART  THE  SECOND. 
THE  STORY  OF  JOAN  OF  ARC. 

IN  a  remote  village  among  some  wild  hills  in  the  province 
of  Lorraine,  there  lived  a  countryman  whose  name  was 
JACQUES  D'ARC.  He  had  a  daughter,  JOAN  OF  ARC,  who  was 
at  this  time  in  her  twentieth  year.  She  had  been  a  solitary 
girl  from  her  childhood  ;  she  had  often  tended  sheep  and  cat- 
tle for  whole  days  where  no  human  figure  was  seen  or  human 
voice  heard ;  and  she  had  often  knelt,  for  hours  together,  in 
the  gloomy  empty  little  village  chapel,  looking  up  at  the  altar 
and  at  the  dim  lamp  burning  before  it,  until  she  fancied  that 
she  saw  shadowy  figures  standing  there,  and  even  that  she 
heard  them  speak  to  her.  The  people  in  that  part  of  France 
were  very  ignorant  and  superstitious,  and  they  had  man}7 
ghostly  tales  to  tell  about  what  they  had  dreamed,  and  what 
they  saw  among  the  lonely  hills  when  the  clouds  and  the  mists 
were  resting  on  them.  So  the}'  easily  believed  that  Joan  saw 
strange  sights,  and  they  whispered  among  themselves  that 
angels  and  spirits  talked  to  her. 

At  last,  Joan  told  her  father  that  she  had  one  day  been 
surprised  by  a  great  unearthly  light,  and  had  afterwards 
heard  a  solemn  voice,  which  said  it  was  Saint  Michael's 
voice,  telling  her  that  she  was  to  go  and  help  the  Dauphin. 
Soon  after  this  (she  said),  Saint  Catherine  and  Saint  Marga- 
ret had  appeared  to  her  with  sparkling  crowns  upon  their 


228  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

heads,  and  had  encouraged  her  to  be  virtuous  and  resolute. 
These  visions  had  returned  sometimes ;  but  the  Voices  very 
often  ;  and  the  voices  always  said,  "  Joan,  thou  art  appointed 
by  Heaven  to  go  and  help  the  Dauphin  !  "  She  almost  always 
heard  them  while  the  chapel  bells  were  ringing. 

There  is  no  doubt  now  that  Joan  believed  she  saw  and 
heard  these  things.  It  is  very  well  known  that  such  delusions 
are  a  disease  which  is  not  by  any  means  uncommon.  It  is 
probable  enough  that  there  were  figures  of  baint  Michael, 
and  Saint  Catherine,  and  Saint  Margaret,  in  the  little  chapel 
(where  they  would  be  very  likely  to  have  shining  crowns  upon 
their  heads) ,  and  that  they  first  gave  Joan  the  idea  of  those 
three  personages.  She  had  long  been  a  moping,  fanciful 
girl,  and,  though  she  was  a  very  good  girl,  I  dare  say  she  was 
a  little  vain  and  wishful  for  notoriety. 

Her  father,  something  wiser  than  his  neighbors,  said,  "  I 
tell  thee,  Joan,  it  is  thy  fancy.  Thou  hadst  better  have  a 
kind  husband  to  take  care  of  thee,  girl,  and  work  to  employ 
th}*  mind  !  "  But  Joan  told  him  in  reply,  that  she  had  taken 
a  vow  never  to  have  a  husband,  and  that  she  must  go  as 
Heaven  directed  her,  to  help  the  Dauphin. 

It  happened,  unfortunately  for  her  father's  persuasions, 
and  most  unfortunately  for  the  poor  girl,  too,  that  a  part}'  of 
the  Dauphin's  enemies  found  their  way  into  the  village  while 
Joan's  disorder  was  at  this  point,  and  burnt  the  chapel,  and 
drove  out  the  inhabitants.  The  cruelties  she  saw  committed, 
touched  Joan's  heart  and  made  her  worse.  She  said  that  the 
voices  and  the  figures  were  now  continually  with  her ;  that 
they  told  her  she  was  the  girl  who,  according  to  an  old 
prophecy,  was  to  deliver  France ;  and  she  must  go  and  help 
the  Dauphin,  and  must  remain  with  him  until  he  should  be 
crowned  at  Rheims :  and  that  she  must  travel  a  long  way  to 
a  certain  lord  named  BAUDRICOURT,  who  could  and  would, 
bring  her  into  the  Dauphin's  presence. 

As  her  father  still  said,  "  I  tell  thee,  Joan,  it  is  thy  fancy," 
she  set  off  to  find  out  this  lord,  accompanied  b}-  an  uncle,  a 


HEftRY  THE   SIXTH.  229 

poor  village  wheelwright  and  cart-maker,  who  believed  in  the 
reality  of  her  visions.  They  travelled  a  long  way  and  went 
on  and  on,  over  a  rough  country,  full  of  the  Duke  of  Bur- 
gundy's men,  and  of  all  kinds  of  robbers  and  marauders,  un- 
til they  came  to  where  this  lord  was. 

When  his  servants  told  him  that  there  was  a  poor  peasant 
girl  named  Joan  of  Arc,  accompanied  by  nobody  but  an  old 
village  wheelwright  and  cart-maker,  who  wished  to  see  him 
because  she  was  commanded  to  help  the  Dauphin  and  save 
France,  Baudricourt  burst  out  a-laughing,  and  bade  them 
send  the  girl  away.  But,  he  soon  heard  so  much  about  her 
lingering  in  the  town,  and  praying  in  the  churches,  and  see- 
ing visions,  and  doing  harm  to  no  one,  that  he  sent  for  her, 
and  questioned  her.  As  she  said  the  same  things  after  she 
had  been  well  sprinkled  with  holy  water  as  she  had  said  be- 
fore the  sprinkling,  Baudricourt  began  to  think  there  might 
be  something  in  it.  At  all  events,  he  thought  it  worth  while 
to  send  her  on  to  the  town  of  Chinon,  where  the  Dauphin 
was.  So,  he  bought  her  a  horse,  and  a  sword,  and  gave  her 
two  squires  to  conduct  her.  As  the  Voices  had  told  Joan 
that  she  was  to  wear  a  man's  dress,  now,  she  put  one  on,  and 
girded  her  sword  to  her  side,  and  bound  spurs  to  her  heels, 
and  mounted  her  horse  and  rode  away  with  her  two  squires. 
As  to  her  uncle. the  wheelwright,  he  stood  staring  at  his  niece 
in  wonder  until  she  was  out  of  sight  —  as  well  he  might  — 
and  then  went  home  again.  The  best  place,  too. 

Joan  and  her  two  squires  rode  on  and  on,  until  they  came 
to  Chinon,  where  she  was,  after  some  doubt,  admitted  into 
the  Dauphin's  presence.  Picking  him  out  immediately  from  all 
his  court,  she  told  him  that  she  came  commanded  by  Heaven 
to  subdue  his  enemies  and  conduct  him  to  his  coronation  at 
Rheims.  She  also  told  him  (or  he  pretended  so  afterwards, 
to  make  the  greater  impression  upon  his  soldiers)  a  num- 
ber of  his  secrets  known  only  to  himself,  and,  furthermore, 
she  said  there  was  an  old,  old  sword  in  the  Cathedral  of 
Saint  Catharine  at  Fierbois,  marked  with  five  old  crosses 


230  A  CHILD'S   HISTOKY  OF  ENGLAND. 

on  the  blade,  which  Saint  Catherine  had  ordered  her  to 
wear. 

Now,  nobody  knew  anything  about  this  old,  old  sword,  but 
when  the  cathedral  came  to  be  examined  —  which  was  imme- 
diately done  —  there,  sure  enough,  the  sword  was  found! 
The  Dauphin  then  required  a  number  of  grave  priests  and 
bishops  to  give  him  their  opinion  whether  the  girl  derived  her 
power  from  good  spirits  or  from  evil  spirits,  which  they  held 
prodigiously  long  debates  about,  in  the  course  of  which  sev- 
eral learned  men  fell  fast  asleep  and  snored  loudly.  At 
last,  when  one  gruff  old  gentleman  had  said  to  Joan,  "  What 
language  do  your  Voices  speak  ?  "  and  when  Joan  had  replied 
to  the  gruff  old  gentleman,  "  A  pleasanter  language  than 
yours,"  they  agreed  that  it  was  all  correct,  and  that  Joan  of 
Arc  was  inspired  from  Heaven.  This  wonderful  circumstance 
put  new  heart  into  the  Dauphin's  soldiers  when  they  heard 
of  it,  and  dispirited  the  English  army,  who  took  Joan  for  a 
witch. 

So  Joan  mounted  horse  again,  and  again  rode  on  and  on, 
until  she  came  to  Orleans.  But  she  rode  now,  as  never 
peasant  girl  had  ridden  yet.  She  rode  upon  a  white  war- 
horse,  in  a  suit  of  glittering  armor ;  with  the  old,  old  sword 
from  the  cathedral,  newly  burnished,  in  her  belt ;  with  a 
white  flag  carried  before  her,  upon  which  were  a  picture  of 
God,  and  the  words  JESUS  MARIA.  In  this  splendid  state,  at 
the  head  of  a  great  body  of  troops  escorting  provisions  of  all 
kinds  for  the  starving  inhabitants  of  Orleans,  she  appeared 
before  that  beleaguered  city. 

When  the  people  on  the  walls  beheld  her,  they  cried  out, 
"  The  Maid  is  come  !  The  Maid  of  the  Prophecy  is  come  to 
deliver  us  !  "  And  this,  and  the  sight  of  the  Maid  fighting  at 
the  head  of  their  men,  made  the  French  so  bold,  and  made 
the  English  so  fearful,  that  the  English  line  of  forts  was  soon 
broken,  the  troops  and  provisions  were  got  into  the  town,  and 
Orleans  was  saved. 

Joan,  henceforth  called  THE  MAID  OF  ORLEANS,  remained 


HENRY   THE   SIXTH.  231 

within  the  walls  for  a  few  da3*s,  and  caused  letters  to  be 
thrown  over,  ordering  Lord  Suffolk  and  his  Englishmen  to 
depart  from  before  the  town  according  to  the  will  of  Heaven. 
As  the  English  general  very  positively  declined  to  believe  that 
Joan  knew  anything  about  the  will  of  Heaven  (which  did  not 
mend  the  matter  with  his  soldiers,  for  they  stupidly  said  if  she 
were  not  inspired  she  was  a  witch,  and  it  was  of  no  use  to 
fight  against  a  witch) ,  she  mounted  her  white  war-horse 
again,  and  ordered  her  white  banner  to  advance. 

The  besiegers  held  the  bridge,  and  some  strong  towers 
upon  the  bridge ;  and  here  the  Maid  of  Orleans  attacked 
them.  The  fight  was  fourteen  hours  long.  She  planted  a 
scaling  ladder  with  her  own  hands,  and  mounted  a  tower  wall, 
but  was  struck  by  an  English  arrow  in  the  neck,  and  fell  into 
the  trench.  She  was  carried  away  and  the  arrow  was  taken 
out,  during  which  operation  she  screamed  and  cried  with  the 
pain,  as  any  other  girl  might  have  done ;  but  presently  she 
said  that  the  Voices  were  speaking  to  her  and  soothing  her  to 
rest.  After  a  while,  she  got  up,  and  was  again  foremost  in 
the  fight.  When  the  English  who  had  seen  her  fall  and  sup- 
posed her  dead,  saw  this,  they  were  troubled  with  the  stran- 
gest fears,  and  some  of  them  cried  out  that  they  beheld  Saint 
Michael  on  a  white  horse  (probably  Joan  herself)  fighting  for 
the  French.  They  lost  the  bridge,  and  lost  the  towers,  and 
next  day  set  their  chain  of  forts  on  fire,  and  left  the  place. 

But  as  Lord  Suffolk  himself  retired  no  farther  than  the 
town  of  Jargeau,  which  was  only  a  few  miles  off,  the  Maid  of 
Orleans  besieged  him  there,  and  he  was  taken  prisoner.  As 
the  white  banner  scaled  the  wall,  she  was  struck  upon  the 
head  with  a  stone,  and  was  again  tumbled  down  into  the  ditch  ; 
but,  she  only  cried  all  the  more,  as  she  lay  there,  "  On,  on, 
my  countrymen !  And  fear  nothing,  for  the  Lord  hath  de- 
livered them  into  our  hands  !  "  After  this  new  success  of  the 
Maid's,  several  other  fortresses  and  places  which  had  pre- 
viously held  out  against  the  Dauphin  were  delivered  up 
without  a  battle  ;  and  at  Patay  she  defeated  the  remainder  of 


232  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

the  English  army,  and  set  up  her  victorious  white  banner  on 
a  field  where  twelve  hundred  Englishmen  lay  dead. 

She  now  urged  the  Dauphin  (who  always  kept  out  of  the 
way  when  there  was  any  fighting)  to  proceed  to  Rheims,  as 
the  first  part  of  her  mission  was  accomplished ;  and  to  com- 
plete the  whole  by  being  crowned  there.  The  Dauphin  was 
in  no  particular  hurry  to  do  this,  as  Rheims  was  a  long  way 
off,  and  the  English  and  the  Duke  of  Burgundy  were  still 
strong  in  the  country  through  which  the  road  lay.  However, 
they  set  forth,  with  ten  thousand  men,  and  again  the  Maid  of 
Orleans  rode  on  and  on,  upon  her  white  war-horse,  and  in 
her  shining  armor.  Whenever  they  came  to  a  town  which 
yielded  readily,  the  soldiers  believed  in  her ;  but,  whenever 
they  came  to  a  town  which  gave  them  any  trouble,  they  began 
to  murmur  that  she  was  an  impostor.  The  latter  was  partic- 
ularly the  case  at  Troyes,  which  finally  j'ielded,  through  the 
persuasion  of  one  Richard,  a  friar  of  the  place.  Friar  Rich- 
ard was  in  the  old  doubt  about  the  Maid  of  Orleans,  until  he 
had  sprinkled  her  well  with  holy  water,  and  had  also  well 
sprinkled  the  threshold  of  the  gate  by  which  she  came  into 
the  city.  Finding  that  it  made  no  change  in  her  or  the  gate, 
he  said,  as  the  other  grave  old  gentlemen  had  said,  that  it 
was  all  right,  and  became  her  great  ally. 

So,  at  last,  and  by  dint  of  riding  on  and  on,  the  Maid  of 
Orleans,  and  the  Dauphin,  and  the  ten  thousand  sometimes 
believing  and  sometimes  unbelieving  men,  came  to  Rheims. 
And  in  the  great  cathedral  of  Rheims,  the  Dauphin  actually 
was  crowned  Charles  the  Seventh  in  a  great  assembly  of  the 
people.  Then,  the  Maid,  who  with  her  white  banner  stood 
beside  the  King  in  that  hour  of  his  triumph,  kneeled  down 
upon  the  pavement  at  his  feet,  and  said,  with  tears,  that  what 
she  had  been  inspired  to  do,  was  done,  and  that  the  only 
recompense  she  asked  for,  was,  that  she  should  now  have 
leave  to  go  back  to  her  distant  home,  and  her  sturdily  incred- 
ulous father,  and  her  first  simple  escort  the  village  wheel- 
wright and  cart-maker.  But  the  King  said  "No!"  and 


HENKY   THE   SIXTH.  233 

made  her  and  her  family  as  noble  as  a  King  could,  and  settled 
upon  her  the  income  of  a  Count. 

Ah  !  happy  had  it  been  for  the  Maid  of  Orleans,  if  she  had 
resumed  her  rustic  dress  that  clay,  and  had  gone  home  to  the 
little  chapel  and  the  wild  hills,  and  had  forgotten  all  these 
things,  and  had  been  a  good  man's  wife,  and  had  heard  no 
stranger  voices  than  the  voices  of  little  children ! 

It  was  not  to  be,  and  she  continued  helping  the  King  (she 
did  a  world  for  him,  in  alliance  with  Friar  Richard),  and 
trying  to  improve  the  lives  of  the  coarse  soldiers,  and  leading 
a  religious,  an  unselfish,  and  a  modest  life,  herself,  be3'ond 
any  doubt.  Still,  many  times  she  prayed  the  King  to  let  her 
go  home ;  and  once  she  even  took  off  her  bright  armor  and 
hung  it  up  in  a  church,  meaning  never  to  wear  it  more.  But, 
the  King  always  won  her  back  again  —  while  she  was  of  any 
use  to  him  —  and  so  she  went  on  and  on  and  on,  to  her  doom. 

When  the  Duke  of  Bedford,  who  was  a  very  able  man, 
began  to  be  active  for  England,  and,  by  bringing  the  war 
back  into  France  and  by  holding  the  Duke  of  Burgundy  to 
his  faith,  to  distress  and  disturb  Chai'les  very  much,  Charles 
sometimes  asked  the  Maid  of  Orleans  what  the  Voices  said 
about  it?  But,  the  Voices  had  become  (very  like  ordinary 
voices  in  perplexed  times)  contradictory  and  confused,  so 
that  now  they  said  one  thing,  and  now  said  another,  and  the 
Maid  lost  credit  every  day.  Charles  marched  on  Paris,  which 
was  opposed  to  him,  and  attacked  the  suburb  of  Saint  Honore". 
In  this  fight,  being  again  struck  down  into  the  ditch,  she  was 
abandoned  by  the  whole  army.  She  lay  unaided  among  a 
heap  of  dead,  and  crawled  out  how  she  could.  Then,  some 
of  her  believers  went  over  to  an  opposition  Maid,  Catherine 
of  La  Rochelle,  who  said  she  was  inspired  to  tell  where  there 
were  treasures  of  buried  money  —  though  she  never  did  —  and 
then  Joan  accidentally  broke  the  old,  old  sword,  and  others 
said  that  her  power  was  broken  with  it.  Finally,  at  the  siege 
of  Compiegne,  held  by  the  Duke  of  Burgund}r,  where  she 
did  valiant  service,  she  was  basely  left  alone  in  a  retreat, 


234  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

though  facing  about  and  fighting  to  the  last ;  and  an  archer 
pulled  her  off  her  horse. 

0  the  uproar  that  was  made,  and  the  thanksgivings  that 
were  sung,  about  the  capture  of  this  one  poor  country-girl ! 
O  the  way  in  which  she  was  demanded  to  be  tried  for  sorcery 
and  heresy,  and  anything  else  }*ou  like,  by  the  Inquisitor- 
General  of  France,  and  by  this  great  man,  and  by  that  great 
man,  until  it  is  wearisome  to  think  of!     She  was  bought  at 
last  b}T  the  Bishop  of  Beauvais  for  ten  thousand  francs,  and 
was  shut  up  in  her  narrow  prison :  plain  Joan  of  Arc  again, 
and  Maid  of  Orleans  no  more. 

1  should  never  have  done  if  I  were  to  tell  you  how  they 
had  Joan  out  to  examine  her,  and  cross-examine  her,  and  re- 
examine  her,  and  worry  her  into  sa3'ing  anything  and  every- 
thing ;  and  how  all  sorts  of  scholars  and  doctors  bestowed 
their  utmost  tediousness  upon  her.     Sixteen  times  she  was 
brought  out  and  shut  up  again,  and  worried,  and  entrapped, 
and   argued   with,  until   she  was   heart-sick   of  the   dreary 
business.     On  the  last  occasion  of  this  kind  she  was  brought 
into  a  burial-place  at  Rouen,  dismally  decorated  with  a  scaffold, 
and  a  stake  and  faggots,  and  the  executioner,  and  a  pulpit 
with  a  friar  therein,  and  an  awful  sermon  ready.     It  is  very 
affecting  to  know  that  even  at  that  pass  the  poor  girl  honored 
the  mean  vermin  of  a  King,  who  had  so  used  her  for  his 
purposes  and  so  abandoned  her ;  and,  that  while  she  had  been 
regardless  of  reproaches  heaped  upon  herself,  she  spoke  out 
courageously  for  him. 

It  was  natural  in  one  so  young  to  hold  to  life.  To  save 
her  life,  she  signed  a  declaration  prepared  for  her  —  signed 
it  with  a  cross,  for  she  couldn't  write  —  that  all  her  visions 
and  Voices  had  come  from  the  Devil.  Upon  her  recanting 
the  past,  and  protesting  that  she  would  never  wear  a  man's 
dress  in  future,  she  was  condemned  to  imprisonment  for  life, 
"  on  the  bread  of  sorrow  and  the  water  of  affliction." 

But,  on  the  bread  of  sorrow  and  the  water  of  affliction,  the 
visions  and  the  Voices  soon  returned.  It  was  quite  natural 


HENRY  THE   SIXTH.  235 

that  they  should  do  so,  for  that  kind  of  disease  is  much 
aggravated  by  fasting,  loneliness,  and  anxiet}^  of  mind.  It 
was  not  only  got  out  of  Joan  that  she  considered  herself 
inspired  again,  but,  she  was  taken  in  a  man's  dress,  which 
had  been  left  —  to  entrap  her  —  in  her  prison,  and  which  she 
put  on,  in  her  solitude  ;  perhaps,  in  remembrance  of  her  past 
glories,  perhaps,  because  the  imaginary  Voices  told  her.  For 
this  relapse  into  the  sorcery  and  heresy  and  anything  else 
you  like,  she  was  sentenced  to  be  burnt  to  death.  And,  in 
the  market-place  of  Rouen,  in  the  hideous  dress  which  the 
monks  had  invented  for  such  spectacles ;  with  priests  and 
bishops  sitting  in  a  gallery  looking  on,  though  some  had  the 
Christian  grace  to  go  away,  unable  to  endure  the  infamous 
scene ;  this  shrieking  girl  —  last  seen  amidst  the  smoke  and 
fire,  holding  a  crucifix  between  her  hands  ;  last  heard,  calling 
upon  Christ  —  was  burnt  to  ashes.  They  threw  her  ashes 
into  the  river  Seine  ;  but  they  will  rise  against  her  murderers 
on  the  last  day. 

From  the  moment  of  her  capture,  neither  the  French  King 
nor  one  single  man  in  all  his  court  raised  a  finger  to  save  her. 
It  is  no  defence  of  them  that  they  may  have  never  really 
believed  in  her,  or  that  they  may  have  won  her  victories  by 
their  skill  and  bravery.  The  more  they  pretended  to  believe 
in  her,  the  more  they  had  caused  her  to  believe  in  herself ; 
and  she  had  ever  been  true  to  them,  ever  brave,  ever  no- 
bly devoted.  But,  it  is  no  wonder,  that  they,  who  were 
in  all  things  false  to  themselves,  false  to  one  another,  false  to 
their  country,  false  to  Heaven,  false  to  Earth,  should  be  mon- 
sters of  ingratitude  and  treachery  to  a  helpless  peasant  girl. 

In  the  picturesque  old  town  of  Rouen,  where  weeds  and 
grass  grow  high  on  the  cathedral  towers,  and  the  venerable 
Norman  streets  are  still  warm  in  the  blessed  sunlight  though 
the  monkish  fires  that  once  gleamed  horribly  upon  them  have 
long  grown  cold,  there  is  a  statue  of  Joan  of  Arc,  in  the 
scene  of  her  last  agony,  the  square  to  which  she  has  given 
its  present  name.  I  know  some  statues  of  modern  times  — 


236  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

even  in  the  "World's  metropolis,  I  think  —  which  commemo- 
rate less  constancy,  less  earnestness,  smaller  claims  upon  the 
world's  attention,  and  much  greater  impostors. 


PART  THE  THIRD. 

BAD  deeds  seldom  prosper,  happily  for  mankind  ;  and  the 
English  cause  gained  no  advantage  from  the  cruel  death  of 
Joan  of  Arc.  For  a  long  time,  the  war  went  heavily  on. 
The  Duke  of  Bedford  died ;  the  alliance  with  the  Duke  of 
Burgundy  was  broken  ;  and  Lord  Talbot  became  a  great 
general  on  the  English  side  in  France.  But  two  of  the  con- 
sequences of  wars  are,  Famine  —  because  the  people  can- 
not peacefully  cultivate  the  ground  —  and  Pestilence,  which 
comes  of  want,  misery,  and  suffering.  Both  these  horrors 
broke  out  in  both  countries,  and  lasted  for  two  wretched 
3'ears.  Then,  the  war  went  on  again,  and  came  by  slow 
degrees  to  be  so  badly  conducted  by  the  English  govern- 
ment, that,  within  twenty  years  from  the  execution  of  the 
Maid  of  Orleans,  of  all  the  great  French  conquests,  the  town 
of  Calais  alone  remained  in  English  hands. 

While  these  victories  and  defeats  were  taking  place  in  the 
course  of  time,  many  strange  things  happened  at  home.  The 
young  King,  as  he  grew  up,  proved  to  be  very  unlike  his 
great  father,  and  showed  himself  a  miserable  pun}'  creature. 
There  was  no  harm  in  him  —  he  had  a  great  aversion  to 
shedding  blood :  which  was  something  —  but,  he  was  a  weak, 
silly,  helpless  young  man,  and  a  mere  shuttlecock  to  the 
great  lordly  battledores  about  the  Court. 

Of  these  battledores,  Cardinal  Beaufort,  a  relation  of  the 
King,  and  the  Duke  of  Gloucester,  were  at  first  the  most 
powerful.  The  Duke  of  Gloucester  had  a  wife,  who  was 
nonsensically  accused  of  practising  witchcraft  to  cause  the 
King's  death  and  lead  to  her  husband's  coming  to  the  throne, 


HENRY   THE   SIXTH.  237 

he  being  the  next  heir.  She  was  charged  with  having,  by 
the  help  of  a  ridiculous  old  woman  named  Margery  (who 
.was  called  a  witch) ,  made  a  little  waxen  doll  in  the  King's 
likeness,  and  put  it  before  a  slow  fire  that  it  might  gradually 
melt  away.  It  was  supposed,  in  such  cases,  that  the  death 
of  the  person  whom  the  doll  was  made  to  represent,  was  sure 
to  happen.  Whether  the  duchess  was  as  ignorant  as  the 
rest  of  them,  and  really  did  make  such  a  doll  with  such  an 
intention,  I  don't  know  ;  but,  you  and  I  know  very  well  that 
she  might  have  made  a  thousand  dolls,  if  she  had  been  stupid 
enough,  and  might  have  melted  them  all,  without  hurting  the 
King  or  anybody  else.  However,  she  was  tried  for  it,  and 
so  was  old  Margeiy,  and  so  was  one  of  the  duke's  chaplains, 
who  was  charged  with  having  assisted  them.  Both  he  and 
Margery  were  put  to  death,  and  the  duchess,  after  being 
taken  on  foot  and  bearing  a  lighted  candle,  three  times  round 
the  City,  as  a  penance,  was  imprisoned  for  life.  The  duke 
himself  took  all  this  pretty  quiet!}',  and  made  as  little  stir 
about  the  matter  as  if  he  were  rather  glad  to  be  rid  of  the 
duchess. 

But  he  was  not  destined  to  keep  himself  out  of  trouble 
long.  The  royal  shuttlecock  being  three-and-twenty,  the 
battledores  were  very  anxious  to  get  him  married.  The  Duke 
of  Gloucester  wanted  him  to  marry  a  daughter  of  the  Count 
of  Armagnac  ;  but,  the  Cardinal  and  the  Earl  of  Suffolk  were 
all  for  MARGARET,  the  daughter  of  the  King  of  Sicily,  who 
they  knew  was  a  resolute  ambitious  woman  and  would  govern 
the  King  as  she  chose.  To  make  friends  with  this  lady,  the 
Earl  of  Suffolk,  who  went  over  to  arrange  the  match,  con- 
sented to  accept  her  for  the  King's  wife  without  any  fortune, 
and  even  to  give  up  the  two  most  valuable  possessions  Eng- 
land then  had  in  France.  So,  the  marriage  was  arranged,  on 
terms  very  advantageous  to  the  lady ;  and  Lord  Suffolk 
brought  her  to  England,  and  she  was  married  at  Westmin- 
ster. On  what  pretence  this  queen  and  her  party  charged  the 
Duke  of  Gloucester  with  high  treason  within  a  couple  of 


238  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

years,  it  is  impossible  to  make  out,  the  matter  is  so  confused  ; 
but,  they  pretended  that  the  King's  life  was  in  danger,  and 
they  took  the  duke  prisoner.  A  fortnight  afterwards,  he  was 
found  dead  in  bed  (they  said),  and  his  bod}'  was  shown  to 
the  people,  and  Lord  Suffolk  came  in  for  the  best  part  of  his 
estates.  You  know  by  this  time  how  strangely  liable  state 
prisoners  were  to  sudden  death. 

If  Cardinal  Beaufort  had  any  hand  in  this  matter,  it  did 
him  no  good,  for  he  died  within  six  weeks ;  thinking  it  very 
hard  and  curious  —  at  eighty  years  old  !  —  that  he  could  not 
live  to  be  Pope. 

This  was  the  time  when  England  had  completed  her  loss  of 
all  her  great  French  conquests.  The  people  charged  the  loss 
principally  upon  the  Earl  of  Suffolk,  now  a  duke,  who  had 
made  those  easy  terms  about  the  Royal  Marriage,  and  who, 
they  believed,  had  even  been  bought  by  France.  So  he  was 
impeached  as  a  traitor,  on  a  great  number  of  charges,  but 
chiefly  on  accusations  of  having  aided  the  French  King,  and 
of  designing  to  make  his  own  son  King  of  England.  The 
Commons  and  the  people  being  violent  against  him,  the  King 
was  made  (by  his  friends)  to  interpose  to  save  him,  by  ban- 
ishing him  for  five  years,  and  proroguing  the  Parliament.  The 
duke  had  much  ado  to  escape  from  a  London  mob,  two  thou- 
sand strong,  who  lay  in  wait  for  him  in  St.  Giles's  fields ; 
but,  he  got  down  to  his  own  estates  in  Suffolk,  and  sailed 
awa}r  from  Ipswich.  Sailing  across  the  Channel,  he  sent 
into  Calais  to  know  if  he  might  land  there ;  but,  they  kept 
his  boat  and  men  in  the  harbor,  until  an  English  ship,  carry- 
ing a  hundred  and  fifty  men  and  called  the  Nicholas  of  the 
Tower,  came  alongside  his  little  vessel,  and  ordered  him  on 
board.  "Welcome,  traitor,  as  men  say,"  was  the  captain's 
grim  and  not  very  respectful  salutation.  He  was  kept  on 
board,  a  prisoner,  for  eight-and-forty  hours,  and  then  a  small 
boat  appeared  rowing  toward  the  ship.  As  this  boat  came 
nearer,  it  was  seen  to  have  in  it  a  block,  a  rusty  sword, 
and  an  executioner  in  a  black  mask.  The  duke  was  handed 


HENRY  THE   SIXTH.  239 

down  into  it,  and  there  his  head  was  cut  off  with  six  strokes 
of  the  rusty  sword.  Then,  the  little  boat  rowed  away  to 
Dover  beach,  where  the  body  was  cast  out,  and  left  until 
the  duchess  claimed  it.  By  whom,  high  in  authority,  this 
murder  was  committed,  has  never  appeared.  No  one  was 
ever  punished  for  it. 

There  now  arose  in  Kent  an  Irishman,  who  gave  himself 
the  name  of  Mortimer,  but  whose  real  name  was  JACK  CADE. 
Jack,  in  imitation  of  Wat  Tyler,  though  he  was  a  very 
different  and  inferior  sort  of  man,  addressed  the  Kentish  men 
upon  their  wrongs,  occasioned  by  the  bad  government  of 
England,  among  so  many  battledores  and  such  a  poor  shut- 
tlecock ;  and  the  Kentish  men  rose  up  to  the  number  of 
twenty  thousand.  Their  place  of  assembly  was  Blackheath, 
where,  headed  by  Jack,  they  put  forth  two  papers,  which 
they  called  "  The  Complaint  of  the  Commons  of  Kent,"  and 
"The  Requests  of  the  Captain  of  the  Great  Assembly  in 
Kent."  They  then  retired  to  Sevenoaks.  The  royal  army 
coming  up  with  them  here,  the}*  beat  it  and  killed  their  gen- 
eral. Then,  Jack  dressed  himself  in  the  dead  general's 
armor,  and  led  his  men  to  London. 

Jack  passed  into  the  City  from  Southwark,  over  the  bridge, 
and  entered  it  in  triumph,  giving  the  strictest  orders  to  his 
men  not  to  plunder.  Having  made  a  show  of  his  forces 
there,  while  the  citizens  looked  on  quietly,  he  went  back  into 
Southwark  in  good  order,  and  passed  the  night.  Next  da}*, 
he  came  back  again,  having  got  hold  in  the  meantime  of  Lord 
Say,  an  unpopular  nobleman.  Says  Jack  to  the  Lord  Mayor 
and  judges  :  "  Will  you  be  so  good  as  to  make  a  tribunal  in 
Guildhall,  and  try  me  this  nobleman?"  The  court  being 
hastily  made,  he  was  found  guilty,  and  Jack  and  his  men  cut 
his  head  off  on  Cornhill.  They  also  cut  off  the  head  of  his 
son-in-law,  and  then  went  back  in  good  order  to  Southwark 
again. 

But,  although  the  citizens  could  bear  the  beheading  of  an 
unpopular  lord,  they  could  not  bear  to  have  their  houses  pil- 


240  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

laged.  And  it  did  so  happen  that  Jack,  after  dinner  —  per- 
haps he  had  drunk  a  little  too  much  —  began  to  plunder  the 
house  where  he  lodged ;  upon  which,  of  course,  his  men  be- 
gan to  imitate  him.  Wherefore,  the  Londoners  took  counsel 
with  Lord  Scales,  who  had  a  thousand  soldiers  in  the  Tower ; 
and  defended  London  Bridge,  and  kept  Jack  and  his  people 
out.  This  advantage  gained,  it  was  resolved  by  divers  great 
men  to  divide  Jack's  army  in  the  old  way,  by  making  a  great 
many  promises  on  behalf  of  the  state,  that  were  never  in- 
tended to  be  performed.  This  did  divide  them ;  some  of 
Jack's  men  saying  that  they  ought  to  take  the  conditions 
which  were  offered,  and  others  saying  that  they  ought  not,  for 
they  were  only  a  snare ;  some  going  home  at  once ;  others 
staying  where  they  were ;  and  all  doubting  and  quarrelling 
among  themselves. 

Jack,  who  was  in  two  minds  about  fighting  or  accepting  a 
pardon,  and  who  indeed  did  both,  saw  at  last  that  there  was 
nothing  to  expect  from  his  men,  and  that  it  was  very  likely 
some  of  them  would  deliver  him  up  and  get  a  reward  of  a 
thousand  marks,  which  was  offered  for  his  apprehension. 
80,  after  the}'  had  travelled  and  quarrelled  all  the  way  from 
Southwark  to  Blackheath,  and  from  Blackheath  to  Rochester, 
he  mounted  a  good  horse  and  galloped  away  into  Sussex. 
But  there  galloped  after  him,  on  a  better  horse,  one  Alexan- 
der Iden,  who  came  up  with  him,  had  a  hard  fight  with  him, 
and  killed  him.  Jack's  head  was  set  aloft  on  London  Bridge, 
with  the  face  looking  towards  Blackheath,  where  he  had 
raised  his  flag ;  and  Alexander  Iden  got  the  thousand 
marks. 

It  is  supposed  by  some,  that  the  Duke  of  York,  who  had 
been  removed  from  a  high  post  abroad  through  the  Queen's 
influence,  and  sent  out  of  the  way,  to  govern  Ireland,  was  at 
the  bottom  of  this  rising  of  Jack  and  his  men,  because  he 
wanted  to  trouble  the  government.  He  claimed  (though  not 
yet  publicly)  to  have  a  better  right  to  the  throne  than  Henry 
of  Lancaster,  as  one  of  the  family  of  the  Earl  of  March, 


HENRY  THE   SIXTH.  241 

whom  Henry  the  Fourth  had  set  aside.  Touching  this  claim, 
which,  being  through  female  relationship,  was  not  according 
to  the  usual  descent,  it  is  enough  to  say  that  Henry  the 
Fourth  was  the  free  choice  of  the  people  and  the  Parliament, 
and  that  his  family  had  now  reigned  undisputed  for  sixty 
years.  The  memory  of  Henry  the  Fifth  was  so  famous,  and 
the  English  people  loved  it  so  much,  that  the  Duke  of  York's 
claim  would,  perhaps,  never  have  been  thought  of  (it  would 
have  been  so  hopeless)  but  for  the  unfortunate  circumstance 
of  the  present  King's  being  by  this  time  quite  an  idiot,  and 
the  country  very  ill  governed.  These  two  circumstances 
gave  the  Duke  of  York  a  power  he  could  not  otherwise  have 
had. 

Whether  the  Duke  knew  anything  of  Jack  Cade,  or  not, 
he  came  over  from  Ireland  while  Jack's  head  was  on  London 
Bridge ;  being  secretly  advised  that  the  Queen  was  setting 
up  his  enemy,  the  Duke  of  Somerset,  against  him.  He  went 
to  Westminster,  at  the  head  of  four  thousand  men,  and  on 
his  knees  before  the  King,  represented  to  him  the  bad  state 
of  the  country,  and  petitioned  him  to  summon  a  Parliament 
to  consider  it.  This  the  King  promised.  When  the  Parlia- 
ment was  summoned,  the  Duke  of  York  accused  the  Duke 
of  Somerset,  and  the  Duke  of  Somerset  accused  the  Duke  of 
York ;  and,  both  in  and  out  of  Parliament,  the  followers 
of  each  party  were  full  of  violence  and  hatred  towards  the 
other.  At  length  the  Duke  of  York  put  himself  at  the  head 
of  a  large  force  of  his  tenants,  and,  in  arms,  demanded  the 
reformation  of  the  Government.  Being  shut  out  of  London, 
he  encamped  at  Dartford,  and  the  ro}*al  army  encamped  at 
Blackheath.  According  as  either  side  triumphed,  the  Duke 
of  York  was  arrested,  or  the  Duke  of  Somerset  was  arrested. 
The  trouble  ended,  for  the  moment,  in  the  Duke  of  York 
renewing  his  oath  of  allegiance,  and  going  in  peace  to  one  of 
his  own  castles. 

Half  a  3rear  afterwards  the  Queen  gave  birth  to  a  son,  who 
was  very  ill  received  by  the  people,  and  not  believed  to  be 

16 


242  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

the  son  of  the  King.  It  shows  the  Duke  of  York  to  have 
been  a  moderate  man,  unwilling  to  involve  England  in  new 
troubles,  that  he  did  not  take  advantage  of  the  general  dis- 
content at  this  time,  but  really  acted  for  the  public  good. 
He  was  made  a  member  of  the  cabinet,  and  the  King  being 
now  so  much  worse  that  he  could  not  be  carried  about  and 
shown  to  the  people  with  any  decency,  the  Duke  was  made 
Lord  Protector  of  the  kingdom,  until  the  King  should  re- 
cover, or  the  Prince  should  come  of  age.  At  the  same  time 
the  Duke  of  Somerset  was  committed  to  the  Tower.  So, 
now  the  Duke  of  Somerset  was  down,  and  the  Duke  of  York 
was  up.  By  the  end  of  the  year,  however,  the  King  recov- 
ered his  memory  and  some  spark  of  sense ;  upon  which  the 
Queen  used  her  power  —  which  recovered  with  him  —  to  get 
the  Protector  disgraced,  and  her  favorite  released.  So  now 
the  Duke  of  York  was  down,  and  the  Duke  of  Somerset 
was  up. 

These  ducal  ups  and  downs  gradually  separated  the  whole 
nation  into  the  two  parties  of  York  and  Lancaster,  and  led 
to  those  terrible  civil  wars  long  known  as  the  Wars  of  the 
Red  and  White  Roses,  because  the  red  rose  was  the  badge  of 
the  House  of  Lancaster,  and  the  white  rose  was  the  badge 
of  the  House  of  York. 

The  Duke  of  York,  joined  by  some  other  powerful  noblemen 
of  the  White  Rose  party,  and  leading  a  small  army,  met  the 
King  with  another  small  army  at  St.  Alban's,  and  demanded 
that  the  Duke  of  Somerset  should  be  given  up.  The  poor 
King,  being  made  to  say  in  answer  that  he  would  sooner  die, 
was  instantly  attacked.  The  Duke  of  Somerset  was  killed, 
and  the  King  himself  was  wounded  in  the  neck,  and  took 
refuge  in  the  house  of  a  poor  tanner.  Whereupon,  the 
Duke  of  York  went  to  him,  led  him  with  great  submission  to 
the  Abbe}',  and  said  he  was  very  sorry  for  what  had  happened. 
Having  now  the  King  in  hu  possession,  he  got  a  Parlia- 
ment summoned  and  himself  once  more  made  Protector,  but, 
Only  for  a  few  months ;  for,  on  the  King  getting  a  little  bet- 


HENRY  THE   SIXTH.  243 

ter  again,  the  Queen  and  her  party  got  him  into  their  posses- 
sion, and  disgraced  the  Duke  once  more.  So,  now  the  Duke 
of  York  was  down  again. 

Some  of  the  best  men  in  power,  seeing  the  danger  of  these 
constant  changes,  tried  even  then  to  prevent  the  Red  and  the 
White  Rose  Wars.  They  brought  about  a  great  council  in 
London  between  the  two  parties.  The  White  Roses  assem- 
bled in  Blackfriars,  the  Red  Roses  in  Whitefriars  ;  and  some 
good  priests  communicated  between  them,  and  made  the  pro- 
ceedings known  at  evening  to  the  King  and  the  judges. 
They  ended  in  a  peaceful  agreement  that  there  should  be  no 
more  quarrelling ;  and  there  was  a  great  royal  procession  to 
St.  Paul's,  in  which  the  Queen  walked  arm-in-arm  with  her 
old  enemy,  the  Duke  of  York,  to  show  the  people  how  com- 
fortable they  all  were.  This  state  of  peace  lasted  half  a  }Tear, 
when  a  dispute  between  the  Earl  of  Warwick  (one  of  the 
Duke's  powerful  friends)  and  some  of  the  King's  servants  at 
Court,  led  to  an  attack  upon  that  Earl  —  who  was  a  White 
Rose  —  and  to  a  sudden  breaking  out  of  all  old  animosities. 
So,  here  were  greater  ups  and  downs  than  ever. 

There  were  even  greater  ups  and  downs  than  these,  soon 
after.  After  various  battles,  the  Duke  of  York  fled  to  Ire- 
land, and  his  son  the  Earl  of  March  to  Calais,  with  their 
friends  the  Earls  of  Salisbuiy  and  Warwick  ;  and  a  Parliament 
was  held  declaring  them  all  traitors.  Little  the  worse  for 
this,  the  Earl  of  Warwick  presently  came  back,  landed  in 
Kent,  was  joined  by  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  and  other 
powerful  noblemen  and  gentlemen,  engaged  the  King's  forces 
at  Northampton,  signally  defeated  them,  and  took  the  King 
himself  prisoner,  who  was  found  in  his  tent.  Warwick  would 
have  been  glad,  I  dare  sa}-,  to  have  taken  the  Queen  and 
Prince  too,  but  they  escaped  into  Wales  and  thence  into  Scot- 
land. 

The  King  was  carried  by  the  victorious  force  straight  to 
London,  and  made  to  call  a  new  Parliament,  which  immedi- 
ately declared  that  the  Duke  of  York  and  those  other  uoble- 


244  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

men  were  not  traitors,  but  excellent  subjects.  Then,  back 
comes  the  Duke  from  Ireland  at  the  head  of  five  hundred 
horsemen,  rides  from  London  to  Westminster,  and  enters  the 
House  of  Lords.  There  he  laid  his  hand  upon  the  cloth  of 
gold  which  covered  the  empty  throne,  as  if  he  had  half  a 
mind  to  sit  down  in  it  —  but  he  did  not.  On  the  Archbishop 
of  Canterbur\r  asking  him  if  he  would  visit  the  King,  who  was 
in  his  palace  close  by,  he  replied,  "I  know  no  one  in  this 
country,  my  lord,  who  ought  not  to  visit  me."  None  of  the 
lords  present,  spoke  a  single  word  ;  so,  the  duke  went  out  as 
he  had  come  in,  established  himself  ro}"ally  in  the  King's  pal- 
ace, and,  six  days  afterwards,  sent  in  to  the  Lords  a  formal 
statement  of  his  claim  to  the  throne.  The  lords  went  to  the 
King  on  this  momentous  subject,  and  after  a  great  deal  of 
discussion,  in  which  the  judges  and  the  other  law  officers  were 
afraid  to  give  an  opinion  on  either  side,  the  question  was  com- 
promised. It  was  agreed  that  the  present  King  should  retain 
the  crown  for  his  life,  and  that  it  should  then  pass  to  the 
Duke  of  York  and  his  heirs. 

But,  the  resolute  Queen,  determined  on  asserting  her  son's 
right,  would  hear  of  no  such  thing.  She  came  from  Scotland 
to  the  north  of  England,  where  several  powerful  lords  armed 
in  her  cause.  The  Duke  of  York,  for  his  part,  set  off  with 
some  five  thousand  men,  a  little  time  befoi-e  Christmas  Day, 
one  thousand  four  hundred  and  sixty,  to  give  her  battle.  He 
lodged  at  Sandal  Castle,  near  Wakefteld,  and  the  Red  Roses 
defied  him  to  come  out  on  Wakefield  Green,  and  fight  them 
then  and  there.  His  generals  said,  he  had  best  wait  until  his 
gallant  son,  the  Earl  of  March,  came  up  with  his  power  ;  but 
he  was  determined  to  accept  the  challenge.  He  did  so,  in  an 
evil  hour.  He  was  hotly  pressed  on  all  sides,  two  thousand 
of  his  men  lay  dead  on  Wakefield  Green,  and  he  himself  was 
taken  prisoner.  They  set  him  down  in  mock  state  on  an  ant- 
hill, and  twisted  grass  about  his  head,  and  pretended  to  pay 
court  to  him  on  their  knees,  saying,  "  O  King,  without  a 
kingdom,  and  Prince  without  a  people,  we  hope  your  gracious 


HENRY   THE   SIXTH.  245 

Majesty  is  very  well  and  happ}- ! "  They  did  worse  than 
this ;  they  cut  his  head  off,  and  handed  it  on  a  pole  to  the 
Queen,  who  laughed  with  delight  when  she  saw  it  (you 
recollect  their  walking  so  religiously  and  comfortably  to  St. 
Paul's  !  ) ,  and  had  it  fixed,  with  a  paper  crown  upon  its  head, 
on  the  walls  of  York.  The  Earl  of  Salisbury  lost  his  head, 
too ;  and  the  Duke  of  York's  second  son,  a  handsome  boy 
who  was  ftying  with  his  tutor  over  Wakefield  Bridge,  was 
stabbed  in  the  heart  by  a  murderous  lord  —  Lord  Clifford  by 
name  —  whose  father  had  been  killed  by  the  White  Roses  in  the 
fight  at  St.  Alban's.  There  was  awful  sacrifice  of  life  in  this 
battle,  for  no  quarter  was  given,  and  the  Queen  was  wild  for 
revenge.  When  men  unnaturally  fight  against  their  own 
counts-men,  the}'  are  always  observed  to  be  more  unnaturally 
cruel  and  filled  with  rage  than  they  are  against  any  other 
enemy. 

But,  Lord  Clifford  had  stabbed  the  second  son  of  the  Duke 
of  York  —  not  the  first.  The  eldest  son,  Edward  Earl  of 
March,  was  at  Gloucester ;  and,  vowing  vengeance  for  the 
death  of  his  father,  his  brother,  and  their  faithful  friends, 
he  began  to  march  against  the  Queen.  He  had  to  turn  and 
fight  a  great  body  of  Welsh  and  Irish  first,  who  worried  his 
advance.  These  he  defeated  in  a  great  fight  at  Mortimer's 
Cross,  near  Hereford,  where  he  beheaded  a  number  of  the 
Red  Roses  taken  in  battle,  in  retaliation  for  the  beheading  of 
the  White  Roses  at  Wakefield.  The  Queen  had  the  next  turn 
of  beheading.  Having  moved  towards  London,  and  falling 
in,  between  St.  Alban's  and  Barnet,  with  the  Earl  of  War- 
wick and  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  White  Roses  both,  who  were 
there  with  an  army  to  oppose  her,  and  had  got  the  King  with 
them  ;  she  defeated  them  with  great  loss,  and  struck  off  the 
heads  of  two  prisoners  of  note,  who  were  in  the  King's  tent 
with  him,  and  to  whom  the  King  had  promised  his  protection. 
Her  triumph,  however,  was  very  short.  She  had  no  treasure, 
and  her  army  subsisted  by  plunder.  This  caused  them  to  be 
hated  and  dreaded  by  the  people,  and  particularly  by  the 


246  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

London  people,  who  were  wealthy.  As  soon  as  the  London- 
ers heard  that  Edward,  Earl  of  March,  united  with  the  Earl 
of  Warwick,  was  advancing  towards  the  city,  they  refused  to 
send  the  Queen  supplies,  and  made  a  great  rejoicing. 

The  Queen  and  her  men  retreated  with  all  speed,  and  Ed- 
ward and  Warwick  came  on,  greeted  with  loud  acclamations 
on  every  side.  The  courage,  beauty,  and  virtues  of  3'oung 
Edward  could  not  be  sufficiently  praised  by  the  whole  people. 
He  rode  into  London  like  a  conqueror,  and  met  with  an  en- 
thusiastic welcome.  A  few  days  afterwards,  Lord  Falcon- 
bridge  and  the  Bishop  of  Exeter  assembled  the  citizens  in  St. 
John's  Field,  Clerkenwell,  and  asked  them  if  they  would  have 
Henry  of  Lancaster  for  their  King?  To  this  they  all  roared, 
"  No,  no,  no  !  "  and  "  King  Edward  !  King  Edward  ! "  Then, 
said  those  noblemen,  would  they  love  and  serve  young  Ed- 
ward? To  this  they  all  cried,  "Yes,  yes ! "  and  threw  up 
their  caps,  and  clapped  their  hands,  and  cheered  tremen- 
dously. 

Therefore,  it  was  declared  that  by  joining  the  Queen  and 
not  protecting  those  two  prisoners  of  note,  Henr}-  of  Lan- 
caster had  forfeited  the  crown ;  and  Edward  of  York  was 
proclaimed  King.  He  made  a  great  speech  to  the  applauding 
people  at  Westminster,  and  sat  down  as  sovereign  of  Eng- 
land on  that  throne,  on  the  golden  covering  of  which  his 
father  —  worthy  of  a  better  fate  than  the  bloody  axe  which 
cut  the  thread  of  so  many  lives  in  England,  through  so  many 
years  —  had  laid  his  hand. 


EDWARD   THE  FOURTH.  247 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

ENGLAND    UNDER   EDWARD   THE    FOURTH. 

KING  EDWARD  THE  FOURTH  was  not  quite  twenty-one 
years  of  age  when  he  took  that  unquiet  seat  upon  the  throne 
of  England.  The  Lancaster  part}r,  the  Red  Roses,  were  then 
assembling  in  great  numbers  near  York,  and  it  was  necessary 
to  give  them  battle  instantly.  But,  the  stout  Earl  of  War- 
wick leading  for  the  young  King,  and  the  young  King  himself 
closely  following  him,  and  the  English  people  crowding  round 
the  Royal  standard,  the  White  and  the  Red  Roses  met,  on  a 
wild  March  da}r  when  the  snow  was  falling  heavily,  at  Tow- 
ton  ;  and  there  such  a  furious  battle  raged  between  them, 
that  the  total  loss  amounted  to  forty  thousand  men  —  all 
Englishmen,  fighting,  upon  English  ground,  against  one  an- 
other. The  young  King  gained  the  day,  took  down  the  heads 
of  his  father  and  brother  from  the  walls  of  York,  and  put  up 
the  heads  of  some  of  the  most  famous  noblemen  engaged  in 
the  battle  on  the  other  side.  Then,  he  went  to  London  and 
was  crowned  with  great  splendor. 

A  new  Parliament  met.  No  fewer  than  one  hundred  and 
fifty  of  the  principal  noblemen  and  gentlemen  on  the  Lancas- 
ter side  were  declared  traitors,  and  the  King  —  who  had  very 
little  humanity,  though  he  was  handsome  in  person  and 
agreeable  in  manners  —  resolved  to  do  all  he  could  to  pluck 
up  the  Red  Rose  root  and  branch. 

Queen  Margaret,  however,  was  still  active  for  her  young 
son.  She  obtained  help  from  Scotland  and  from  Normandy, 
and  took  several  important  English  castles.  But,  Warwick 
soon  retook  them ;  the  Queen  lost  all  her  treasure  on  board 


248  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

ship  in  a  great  storm ;  and  both  she  and  her  son  suffered 
great  misfortunes.  Once,  in  the  winter  weather,  as  they 
were  riding  through  a  forest,  they  were  attacked  and  plun- 
dered by  a  party  of  robbers ;  and,  when  they  had  escaped 
from  these  men  and  were  passing  alone  and  on  foot  through 
a  thick  dark  part  of  the  wood,  they  came,  all  at  once,  upon 
another  robber.  So  the  Queen,  with  a  stout  heart,  took  the 
little  Prince  by  the  hand,  and  going  straight  up  to  that 
robber,  said  to  him,  "My  friend,  this  is  the  young  son  of 
your  lawful  King !  I  confide  him  to  your  care."  The  rob- 
ber was  surprised,  but  took  the  boy  in  his  arms,  and  faith- 
fully restored  him  and  his  mother  to  their  friends.  In  the 
end,  the  Queen's  soldiers  being  beaten  and  dispersed,  she 
went  abroad  again,  and  kept  quiet  for  the  present. 

Now,  all  this  time,  the  deposed  King  Henry  was  concealed 
by  a  Welsh  knight,  who  kept  him  close  in  his  castle.  But, 
next  year,  the  Lancaster  party  recovering  their  spirits,  raised 
a  large  body  of  men,  and  called  him  out  of  his  retirement,  to 
put  him  at  their  head.  They  were  joined  by  some  powerful 
noblemen  who  had  sworn  fidelity  to  the  new  King,  but  who 
were  ready,  as  usual,  to  break  their  oaths,  whenever  they 
thought  there  was  anything  to  be  got  by  it.  One  of  the 
worst  things  in  the  history  of  the  war  of  the  Red  and  White 
Roses,  is  the  ease  with  which  these  noblemen,  who  should 
have  set  an  example  of  honor  to  the  people,  left  either  side 
as  they  took  slight  offence,  or  were  disappointed  in  their 
greedy  expectations,  and  joined  the  other.  Well !  War- 
wick's brother  soon  beat  the  Lancastrians,  and  the  false 
noblemen,  being  taken,  were  beheaded  without  a  moment's 
loss  of  time.  The  deposed  King  had  a  narrow  escape  ;  three 
of  his  servants  were  taken,  and  one  of  them  bore  his  cap  of 
estate,  which  was  set  with  pearls,  and  embroidered  with  two 
golden  crowns.  However,  the  head  to  which  the  cap  be- 
longed, got  safely  into  Lancashire,  and  lay  pretty  quietly 
there  (the  people  in  the  secret  being  very  true)  for  more  than 
a  year.  At  length,  an  old  monk  gave  such  intelligence  as 


EDWARD   THE   FOURTH.  249 

led  to  Henry's  being  taken  while  he  was  sitting  at  dinner  in 
a  place  called  Waddington  Hall.  He  was  immediately  sent 
to  London,  and  met  at  Islington  by  the  Earl  of  Warwick,  by 
whose  directions  he  was  put  upon  a  horse,  with  his  legs  tied 
under  it,  and  paraded  three  times  round  the  pillory.  Then, 
he  was  carried  off  to  the  Tower,  where  they  treated  him  well 
enough. 

The  White  Rose  being  so  triumphant,  the  young  King 
abandoned  himself  entirely  to  pleasure,  and  led  a  jovial  life. 
But,  thorns  were  springing  up  under  his  bed  of  roses,  as  he 
soon  found  out.  For,  having  been  privately  married  to 
ELIZABETH  WOODVILLE,  a  young  widow  lady,  very  beautiful 
and  very  captivating  ;  and  at  last  resolving  to  make  his  secret 
known,  and  to  declare  her  his  Queen  ;  he  gave  some  offence  to 
the  Earl  of  Warwick,  who  was  usually  called  the  King-Maker, 
because  of  his  power  and  influence,  and  because  of  his  having 
lent  such  great  help  to  placing  Edward  on  the  throne.  This 
offence  was  not  lessened  by  the  jealousy  with  which  the  Nevil 
family  (the  Earl  of  Warwick's) ,  regarded  the  promotion  of  the 
Woodville  family.  For,  the  young  Queen  was  so  bent  on 
providing  for  her  relations,  that  she  made  her  father  an  earl 
and  a  great  officer  of  state  ;  married  her  five  sisters  to  young 
noblemen  of  the  highest  rank  ;  and  provided  for  her  younger 
brother,  a  }-oung  man  of  twenty,  by  marrying  him  to  an  im- 
mensely rich  old  duchess  of  eighty.  The  Earl  of  Warwick 
took  all  this  pretty  graciously  for  a  man  of  his  proud  temper, 
until  the  question  arose  to  whom  the  King's  sister,  MARGA- 
RET, should  be  married.  The  Earl  of  Warwick  said,  "  To 
one  of  the  French  King's  sons,"  and  was  allowed  to  go  over  to 
the  French  King  to  make  friendly  proposals  for  that  purpose, 
and  to  hold  all  manner  of  friendly  interviews  with  him.  But, 
while  he  was  so  engaged,  the  Woodville  party  married  the 
young  lady  to  the  Duke  of  Burgundy  !  Upon  this  he  came 
back  in  great  rage  and  scorn,  and  shut  himself  up  discon- 
tented in  his  Castle  of  Middleham. 

A   reconciliation,    though   not   a   very   sincere    one,    was 


250  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

patched  up  between  the  Earl  of  Warwick  and  the  King,  and 
lasted  until  the  Earl  married  his  daughter,  against  the  King's 
wishes,  to  the  Duke  of  Clarence.  While  the  marriage  was 
being  celebrated  at  Calais,  the  people  in  the  north  of  Eng- 
land, where  the  influence  of  the  Nevil  family  was  strongest, 
broke  out  into  rebellion ;  their  complaint  was,  that  England 
was  oppressed  and  plundered  by  the  Woodville  family  whom 
they  demanded  to  have  removed  from  power.  As  they  were 
joined  by  great  numbers  of  people,  and  as  they  openly 
declared  that  the}T  were  supported  by  the  Earl  of  Warwick, 
the  King  did  not  know  what  to  do.  At  last,  as  he  wrote 
to  the  earl  beseeching  his  aid,  he  and  his  new  son-in-law 
came  over  to  England,  and  began  to  arrange  the  business  by 
shutting  the  King  up  in  Middleham  Castle  in  the  safe  keep- 
ing of  the  Archbishop  of  York ;  so  England  was  not  only  in 
the  strange  position  of  having  two  kings  at  once,  but  they 
were  both  prisoners  at  the  same  time. 

Even  as  yet,  however,  the  King_-Maker  was  so  far  true  to 
the  King,  that  he  dispersed  a  new  rising  of  the  Lancastrians, 
took  their  leader  prisoner,  and  brought  him  to  the  King,  who 
ordered  him  to  be  immediately  executed.  He  presently 
allowed  the  King  to  return  to  London,  and  there  innumera- 
ble pledges  of  forgiveness  and  friendship  were  exchanged 
between  them,  and  between  the  Nevils  and  the  Woodvilles : 
the  King's  eldest  daughter  was  promised  in  marriage  to  the 
heir  of  the  Nevil  family;  and  more  friendly  oaths  were 
sworn,  and  more  friendly  promises  made,  than  this  book 
would  hold. 

They  lasted  about  three  months.  At  the  end  of  that  time, 
the  Archbishop  of  York  made  a  feast  for  the  King,  the  Earl 
of  Warwick,  and  the  Duke  of  Clarence,  at  his  house,  the 
Moor,  in  Hertfordshire.  The  King  was  washing  his  hands 
before  supper,  when  some  one  whispered  him  that  a  body  of 
a  hundred  men  were  lying  in  ambush  outside  the  house. 
Whether  this  were  true  or  untrue,  the  King  took  fright, 
mounted  his  horse,  and  rode  through  the  dark  night  to  Wind- 


EDWARD   THE   FOURTH.  251 

sor  Castle.  Another  reconciliation  was  patched  up  between 
him  and  the  King-Maker,  but  it  was  a  short  one,  and  it  was 
the  last.  A  new  rising  took  place  in  Lincolnshire,  and  the 
King  marched  to  repress  it.  Having  done  so,  he  proclaimed 
that  both  the  Earl  of  Warwick  and  the  Duke  of  Clarence 
were  traitors,  who  had  secretly  assisted  it,  and  who  had 
been  prepared  publicly  to  join  it  on  the  following  day.  In 
these  dangerous  circumstances  they  both  took  ship  and  sailed 
away  to  the  French  court. 

And  here  a  meeting  took  place  between  the  Earl  of  War- 
wick and  his  old  enemy,  the  Dowager  Queen  Margaret, 
through  whom  his  father  had  had  his  head  struck  off,  and  to 
whom  he  had  been  a  bitter  foe.  But,  now,  when  he  said 
that  he  had  done  with  the  ungrateful  and  perfidious  Edward 
of  York,  and  that  henceforth  he  devoted  himself  to  the  res- 
toration of  the  House  of  Lancaster,  either  in  the  person  of 
her  husband  or  of  her  little  son,  she  embraced  him  as  if  he 
had  ever  been  her  dearest  friend.  She  did  more  than  that ; 
she  married  her  son  to  his  second  daughter,  the  Lady  Anne. 
However  agreeable  this  marriage  was  to  the  new  friends,  it 
was  very  disagreeable  to  the  Duke  of  Clarence,  who  per- 
ceived that  his  father-in-law,  the  King-Maker,  would  never 
make  him  King,  now.  So,  being  but  a  weak-minded  young 
traitor,  possessed  of  very  little  worth  or  sense,  he  readily 
listened  to  an  artful  court  lady  sent  over  for  the  purpose, 
and  promised  to  turn  traitor  once  more,  and  go  over  to  his 
brother,  King  Edward,  when  a  fitting  opportunity  should 
come. 

The  Earl  of  Warwick,  knowing  nothing  of  this,  soon  re- 
deemed his  promise  to  the  Dowager  Queen  Margaret,  by  in- 
vading England  and  landing  at  Plymouth,  where  he  instantly 
proclaimed  King  Henry,  and  summoned  all  Englishmen  be- 
tween the  ages  of  sixteen  and  sixty,  to  join  his  banner. 
Then,  with  his  army  increasing  as  he  marched  along,  he 
went  northward,  and  came  so  near  King  Edward,  who  was  in 
that  part  of  the  country,  that  Edward  had  to  ride  hard  for 


252  A  CHILD'S   HISTOKY   OF  ENGLAND. 

it  to  the  coast  of  Norfolk,  and  thence  to  get  away  in  such 
ships  as  he  could  find,  to  Holland.  Thereupon,  the  trium- 
phant King-Maker  and  his  false  son-in-law,  the  Duke  of  Clar- 
ence, went  to  London,  took  the  old  King  out  of  the  Tower, 
and  walked  him  in  a  great  procession  to  Saint  Paul's  Cathe- 
dral with  the  crown  upon  his  head.  This  did  not  improve 
the  temper  of  the  Duke  of  Clarence,  who  saw  himself  farther 
off  from  being  King  than  ever ;  but  he  kept  his  secret, 
and  said  nothing.  The  Nevil  family  were  restored  to  all 
their  honors  and  glories,  and  the  Woodvilles  and  the  rest 
were  disgraced.  The  King-Maker,  less  sanguinar}7  than  the 
King,  shed  no  blood  except  that  of  the  Earl  of  Worcester, 
who  had  been  so  cruel  to  the  people  as  to  have  gained  the 
title  of  the  Butcher.  Him  they  caught  hidden  in  a  tree,  and 
him  they  tried  and  executed.  No  other  death  stained  the 
King-Maker's  triumph. 

To  dispute  this  triumph,  back  came  King  Edward  again, 
next  year,  landing  at  Ravenspur,  coming  on  to  York,  caus- 
ing all  his  men  to  cry,  "  Long  live  King  Henry  !  "  and  swear- 
ing on  the  altar,  without  a  blush,  that  he  came  to  lay  no 
claim  to  the  crown.  Now  was  the  time  for  the  Duke  of 
Clarence,  who  ordered  his  men  to  assume  the  White  Rose, 
and  declare  for  his  brother.  The  Marquis  of  Montague, 
though  the  Earl  of  Warwick's  brother,  also  declining  to 
fight  against  King  Edward,  he  went  on  successfully  to  Lon- 
don, where  the  Archbishop  of  York  let  him  into  the  City, 
and  where  the  people  made  great  demonstrations  in  his  favor. 
For  this  the}'  had  four  reasons.  Firstly,  there  were  great 
numbers  of  the  King's  adherents  hiding  in  the  City  and 
ready  to  break  out ;  second  ly,  the  King  owed  them  a  great 
deal  of  money,  which  they  could  never  hope  to  get  if  he  were 
unsuccessful ;  thirdly,  there  was  a  young  prince  to  inherit 
the  crown ;  and  fourthly,  the  King  was  gay  and  handsome, 
and  more  popular  than  a  better  man  might  have  been  with  the 
City  ladies.  After  a  stay  of  only  two  days  with  these  wor- 
thy supporters,  the  King  marched  out  to  Barnet  Common  to 


EDWARD   THE  FOURTH.  253 

give  the  Earl  of  Warwick  battle.  And  now  it  was  to  be 
seen,  for  the  last  time,  whether  the  King  or  the  King-Maker 
was  to  carry  the  da}'. 

While  the  battle  was  yet  pending,  the  faint-hearted  Duke 
of  Clarence  began  to  repent,  and  sent  over  secret  messages 
to  his  father-in-law,  offering  his  services  in  mediation  with 
the  King.  But,  the  Earl  of  Warwick  disdainfully  rejected 
them,  and  replied  that  Clarence  was  false  and  perjured,  and 
that  he  would  settle  the  quarrel  by  the  sword.  The  battle 
began  at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  and  lasted  until  ten,  and 
during  the  greater  part  of  the  time  it  was  fought  in  a  thick 
mist  —  absurdly  supposed  to  be  raised  by  a  magician.  The 
loss  of  life  was  very  great,  for  the  hatred  was  strong  on  both 
sides.  The  King-Maker  was  defeated,  and  the  King  tri- 
umphed. Both  the  Earl  of  Warwick  and  his  brother  were 
slain,  and  their  bodies  lay  in  St.  Paul's,  for  some  days,  as  a 
spectacle  to  the  people. 

Margaret's  spirit  was  not  broken  even  by  this  great  blow. 
Within  five  days  she  was  in  arms  again,  and  raised  her  stand- 
ard in  Bath,  whence  she  set  off  with  her  army,  to  try  and 
join  Lord  Pembroke,  who  had  a  force  in  Wales.  But,  the 
King,  coming  up  with  her  outside  the  town  of  Tewkesbury, 
and  ordering  his  brother,  the  DUKE  OF  GLOUCESTER,  who  was 
a  brave  soldier,  to  attack  her  men,  she  sustained  an  entire 
defeat,  and  was  taken  prisoner,  together  with  her  son,  now 
only  eighteen  years  of  age.  The  conduct  of  the  King  to  this 
poor  youth  was  worthy  of  his  cruel  character.  He  ordered 
him  to  be  led  into  his  tent.  "  And  what,"  said  he,  "  brought 
you  to  England  ?  "  "I  came  to  England,"  replied  the  prisoner," 
with  a  spirit  which  a  man  of  spirit  might  have  admired  in 
a  captive,  "  to  recover  my  father's  kingdom,  which  descended 
to  him  as  his  right,  and  from  him  descends  to  me,  as  mine." 
The  King,  drawing  off  his  iron  gauntlet,  struck  him  with  it 
in  the  face ;  and  the  Duke  of  Clarence  and  some  other  lords, 
who  were  there,  drew  their  noble  swords,  and  killed  him. 

His  mother  survived  him,  a  prisoner,  for  five  years  ;  after 


254  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

her  ransom  by  the  King  of  France,  she  survived  for  six  years 
more.  Within  three  weeks  of  this  murder,  Henry  died  one  of 
those  convenient  sudden  deaths  which  were  so  common  in  the 
Tower ;  in  plainer  words,  he  was  murdered  by  the  King's  order. 

Having  no  particular  excitement  on  his  hands  after  this 
great  defeat  of  the  Lancaster  party,  and  being  perhaps  desir- 
ous to  get  rid  of  some  of  his  fat  (for  he  was  now  getting  too 
corpulent  to  be  handsome) ,  the  King  thought  of  making  war 
on  France.  As  he  wanted  more  money  for  this  purpose  than 
the  Parliament  could  give  him,  though  they  were  usually 
ready  enough  for  war,  he  invented  a  new  way  of  raising  it, 
by  sending  for  the  principal  citizens  of  London,  and  telling 
them,  with  a  grave  face,  that  he  was  very  much  in  want  of 
cash,  and  would  take  it  very  kin(J  in  them  if  they  would  lend 
him  some.  It  being  impossible  for  them  safely  to  refuse, 
they  complied,  and  the  moneys  thus  forced  from  them  were 
called  —  no  doubt  to  the  great  amusement  of  the  King  and 
the  Court  —  as  if  the}'  were  free  gifts, ' '  Benevolences."  What 
with  grants  from  Parliament,  and  what  with  Benevolences, 
the  King  raised  an  army  and  passed  over  to  Calais.  As  no- 
body wanted  war,  however,  the  French  King  made  proposals 
of  peace,  which  were  accepted,  and  a  truce  was  concluded 
for  seven  long  years.  The  proceedings  between  the  Kings 
of  France  and  England  on  this  occasion,  were  very  friendly, 
very  splendid,  and  very  distrustful.  They  finished  with  a 
meeting  between  the  two  Kings,  on  a  temporar}7  bridge  over 
the  river  Somme,  where  they  embraced  through  two  holes  in 
a  strong  wooden  grating  like  a  lion's  cage,  and  made  several 
bows  and  fine  speeches  to  one  another. 

It  was  time,  now,  that  the  Duke  of  Clarence  should  be 
punished  for  his  treacheries ;  and  Fate  had  his  punishment 
in  store.  He  was,  probably,  not  trusted  by  the  King  —  for 
who  could  trust  him  who  knew  him  !  — and  he  had  certainty  a 
powerful  opponent  in  his  brother  Richard,  Duke  of  Glouces- 
ter, who,  being  avaricious  and  ambitious,  wanted  to  marry 
that  widowed  daughter  of  the  Earl  of  Warwick's  who  had 


EDWAKD   THE   FOURTH.  255 

been  espoused  to  the  deceased  young  Prince  at  Calais.  Clar- 
ence, who  wanted  all  the  family  wealth  for  himself,  secreted 
this  lady,  whom  Richard  found  disguised  as  a  servant  in  the 
City  of  London,  and  whom  he  married  ;  arbitrators  appointed 
by  the  King,  then  divided  the  property  between  the  brothers. 
This  led  to  ill-will  and  mistrust  between  them.  Clarence's 
wife  dying,  and  he  wishing  to  make  another  marriage,  which 
was  obnoxious  to  the  King,  his  ruin  was  hurried  by  that 
means,  too.  At  flrst,  the  Court  struck  at  his  retainers  and 
dependents,  and  accused  some  of  them  of  magic  and  witch- 
craft, and  similar  nonsense.  Successful  against  this  small 
game,  it  then  mounted  to  the  Duke  himself,  who  was  im- 
peached by  his  brother  the  King,  in  person,  on  a  variety  of 
such  charges.  He  was  found  guilty,  and  sentenced  to  be 
publicly  executed.  He  never  was  publicly  executed,  but  he 
met  his  death  somehow,  in  the  Tower,  and,  no  doubt,  through 
some  agency  of  the  King  or  his  brother  Gloucester,  or  both. 
It  was  supposed  at  the  time  that  he  was  told  to  choose  the 
manner  of  his  death,  and  that  he  chose  to  be  drowned  in  a 
butt  of  Malmsey  wine.  I  hope  the  story  may  be  true,  for 
it  would  have  been  a  becoming  death  for  such  a  miserable 
creature. 

The  King  survived  him  some  five  years.  He  died  in  the 
forty-second  year  of  his  life,  and  the  twenty-third  of  his  reign. 
He  had  a  very  good  capacity  and  some  good  points,  but  he 
was  selfish,  careless,  sensual,  and  cruel.  He  was  a  favorite 
with  the  people  for  his  showy  manners  ;  and  the  people  were 
a  good  example  to  him  in  the  constancy  of  their  attachment. 
He  was  penitent  on  his  death-bed  for  his  "  benevolences," 
and  other  extortions,  and  ordered  restitution  to  be  made  to 
the  people  who  had  suffered  from  them.  *He  also  called  about 
his  bed  the  enriched  members  of  the  Woodville  family,  and 
the  proud  lords  whose  honors  were  of  older  date,  and  en- 
deavored to  reconcile  them,  for  the  sake  of  the  peaceful 
succession  of  his  son  and  the  tranquillity  of  England. 


256  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

ENGLAND   UNDER   EDWARD   THE   FIFTH. 

THE  late  King's  eldest  son,  the  Prince  of  Wales,  called 
EDWARD  after  him,  was  only  thirteen  years  of  age  at  his 
father's  death.  He  was  at  Ludlow  Castle  with  his  uncle,  the 
Earl  of  Rivers.  The  prince's  brother,  the  Duke  of  York, 
only  eleven  years  of  age,  was  in  London  with  his  mother. 
The  boldest,  most  crafty,  and  most  dreaded  nobleman  in  Eng- 
land at  that  time  was  their  uncle  RICHARD,  Duke  of  Gloucester, 
and  everybody  wondered  how  the  two  poor  boys  would  fare 
with  such  an  uncle  for  a  friend  or  a  foe. 

The  Queen,  their  mother,  being  exceedingly  uneas}T  about 
this,  was  anxious  that  instructions  should  be  sent  to  Lord 
Rivers  to  raise  an  army  to  escort  the  young  King  safely  to 
London.  But,  Lord  Hastings,  who  was  of  the  court  party 
opposed  to  the  Woodvilles,  and  who  disliked  the  thought  of 
giving  them  that  power,  argued  against  the  proposal,  and 
obliged  the  Queen  to  be  satisfied  with  an  escort  of  two  thou- 
sand horse.  The  Duke  of  Gloucester  did  nothing,  at  first,  to 
justify  suspicion.  He  came  from  Scotland  (where  he  was 
commanding  an  army)  to  York,  and  was  there  the  first  to 
swear  allegiance  to  his  nephew.  He  then  wrote  a  condoling 
letter  to  the  Queen-mother,  and  set  off  to  be  present  at  the 
coronation  in  London. 

Now,  the  young  King,  journeying  towards  London  too, 
with  Lord  Rivers  and  Lord  Gray,  came  to  Stony  Stratford, 
as  his  uncle  came  to  Northampton,  about  ten  miles  distant; 
and  when  those  two  lords  heard  that  the  Duke  of  Gloucester 
was  so  near,  they  proposed  to  the  young  King  that  they 


EDWARD   THE   FIFTH.  257 

should  go  back  and  greet  him  in  his  name.  The  boy  being 
ver}-  willing  that  they  should  do  so,  they  rode  off  and  were 
received  with  great  friendliness,  and  asked  by  the  Duke  of 
Gloucester  to  stay  and  dine  with  him.  In  the  evening,  while 
they  were  merry  together,  up  came  the  Duke  of  Buckingham 
with  three  hundred  horsemen ;  and  next  morning  the  two 
lords  and  the  two  dukes,  and  the  three  hundred  horsemen, 
rode  away  together  to  rejoin  the  King.  Just  as  they  were 
entering  Stony  Stratford,  the  Duke  of  Gloucester,  checking 
his  horse,  turned  suddenly  on  the  two  lords,  charged  them 
with  alienating  from  him  the  affections  of  his  sweet  nephew, 
and  caused  them  to  be  arrested  by  the  three  hundred  horse- 
men and  taken  back.  Then,  he  and  the  Duke  of  Buckingham 
went  straight  to  the  King  (whom  they  had  now  in  their 
power),  to  whom  they  made  a  show  of  kneeling  down,  and 
offering  great  love  and  submission ;  and  then  they  ordered 
his  attendants  to  disperse,  and  took  him,  alone  with  them,  to 
Northampton. 

A  few  days  afterwards  the}r  conducted  him  to  London,  and 
lodged  him  in  the  Bishop's  Palace.  But,  he  did  not  remain 
there  long ;  for,  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  with  a  tender  face 
made  a  speech  expressing  how  anxious  he  was  for  the  Royal 
boy's  safety,  and  how  much  safer  he  would  be  in  the  Tower 
until  his  coronation,  than  he  could  be  anywhere  else.  So,  to 
the  Tower  he  was  taken,  very  carefully,  and  the  Duke  of 
Gloucester  was  named  Protector  of  the  State. 

Although  Gloucester  had  proceeded  thus  far  with  a  very 
smooth  countenance  —  and  although  he  was  a  clever  man, 
fair  of  speech,  and  not  ill-looking,  inspite  of  one  of  his 
shoulders  being  something  higher  than  the  other  —  and  al- 
though he  had  come  into  the  City  riding  bare-headed  at  the 
King's  side,  and  looking  very  fond  of  him  —  he  had  made 
the  King's  mother  more  uneas}'  yet;  and  when  the  Royal 
boy  was  taken  to  the  Tower,  she  became  so  alarmed  that  she 
took  sanctuary  in  Westminster  with  her  five  daughters. 

Nor  did  she  do  this  without  reason,  for,  the  Duke  of  Glou- 

17 


258  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

cester,  finding  that  the  lords  who  were  opposed  to  the  Wood- 
ville  family  were  faithful  to  the  young  King  nevertheless, 
quickly  resolved  to  strike  a  blow  for  himself.  Accordingly, 
while  those  lords  met  in  council  at  the  Tower,  he  and  those 
who  were  in  his  interest  met  in  separate  council  at  his  own 
residence,  Crosby  Palace,  in  Bishopsgate  Street.  Being  at 
last  quite  prepared,  he  one  day  appeared  unexpectedly  at  the 
council  in  the  Tower,  and  appeared  to  be  ver}r  jocular  and 
merry.  He  was  particularly  gay  with  the  Bishop  of  Ely: 
praising  the  strawberries  that  grew  in  his  garden  on  Holborn 
Hill,  and  asking  him  to  have  some  gathered  that  he  might 
eat  them  at  dinner.  The  Bishop,  quite  proud  of  the  honor, 
sent  one  of  his  men  to  fetch  some  ;  and  the  Duke,  still  very 
jocular  and  gay,  went  out ;  and  the  council  all  said  what  a 
ver}T  agreeable  duke  he  was  !  In  a  little  time,  however,  he 
came  back  quite  altered  —  not  at  all  jocular  —  frowning  and 
fierce  —  and  suddenly  said,  — 

"  What  do  those  persons  deserve  who  have  compassed  my 
destruction ;  I  being  the  King's  lawful,  as  well  as  natural, 
protector  ?  " 

To  this  strange  question,  Lord  Hastings  replied,  that  they 
deserved  death,  whosoever  they  were. 

"  Then,"  said  the  Duke,  "  I  tell  you  that  they  are  that 
sorceress  my  brother's  wife;"  meaning  the  Queen:  "and 
that  other  sorceress,  Jane  Shore.  Who,  by  witchcraft,  have 
withered  my  body,  and  caused  my  arm  to  shrink  as  I  now 
show  3'ou." 

He  then  pulled  up  his  sleeve  and  showed  them  his  arm, 
which  was  shrunken,  it  is  true,  but  which  had  been  so,  as 
they  all  very  well  knew,  from  the  hour  of  his  birth. 

Jane  Shore,  being  then  the  lover  of  Lord  Hastings,  as  she 
had  formerly  been  of  the  late  King,  that  lord  knew  that 
he  himself  was  attacked.  So,  he  said,  in  some  confusion, 
"  Certainly,  my  Lord,  if  they  have  done  this,  the}'  be  worthy 
of  punishment." 

"  If  ? "  said  the  Duke  of  Gloucester ;  "  do  you  talk  to  me 


EDWARD   THE   FIFTH.  259 

of  ifs?  I  tell  3Tou  that  they  have  so  done,  and  I  will  make  it 
good  upon  thy  body,  thou  traitor !  " 

With  that  he  struck  the  table  a  great  blow  with  his  fist. 
This  was  a  signal  to  some  of  his  people  outside  to  cry  ' '  Trea- 
son !  "  They  immediately  did  so,  and  there  was  a  rush  into 
the  chamber  of  so  many  armed  men  that  it  was  filled  in  a 
moment. 

"  First,"  said  the  Duke  of  Gloucester  to  Lord  Hastings, 
"  I  arrest  thee,  traitor!  And  let  him,"  he  added  to  the 
armed  men  who  took  him,  "have  a  priest  at  once,  for  by 
St.  Paul  I  will  not  dine  until  I  have  seen  his  head  off !  " 

Lord  Hastings  was  hurried  to  the  green  by  the  Tower 
chapel,  and  there  beheaded  on  a  log  of  wood  that  happened 
to  be  tying  on  the  ground.  Then,  the  Duke  dined  with  a 
good  appetite,  and  after  dinner  summoning  the  principal 
citizens  to  attend  him,  told  them  that  Lord  Hastings  and 
the  rest  had  designed  to  murder  both  himself  and  the  Duke 
of  Buckingham,  who  stood  by  his  side,  if  he  had  not  provi- 
dentially discovered  their  design.  He  requested  them  to  be 
so  obliging  as  to  inform  their  fellow-citizens  of  the  truth  of 
what  he  said,  and  issued  a  proclamation  (prepared  and  neatly 
copied  out  beforehand)  to  the  same  effect. 

On  the  same  day  that  the  Duke  did  these  things  in  the 
Tower,  Sir  Richard  Ratcliffe,  the  boldest  and  most  undaunted 
of  his  men,  went  down  to  Pontefract ;  arrested  Lord  Rivers, 
Lord  Gray,  and  two  other  gentlemen  ;  and  publicly  executed 
them  on  the  scaffold,  without  any  trial,  for  having  intended 
the  Duke's  death.  Three  days  afterwards  the  Duke,  not  to 
lose  time,  went  down  the  river  to  Westminster  in  his  barge, 
attended  by  divers  bishops,  lords,  and  soldiers,  and  demanded 
that  the  Queen  should  deliver  her  second  son,  the  Duke  of 
York,  into  his  safe  keeping.  The  Queen,  being  obliged  to 
comply,  resigned  the  child  after  she  had  wept  over  him  ;  and 
Richard  of  Gloucester  placed  him  with  his  brother  in  the 
Tower.  Then,  he  seized  Jane  Shore,  and,  because  she  had 
been  the  lover  of  the  late  King,  confiscated  her  property,  and 


260  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

got  her  sentenced  to  do  public  penance  in  the  streets  by 
walking  in  a  scanty  dress,  with  bare  feet,  and  carrying  a 
lighted  candle,  to  St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  through  the  most 
crowded  part  of  the  City. 

Having  now  all  things  read}r  for  his  own  advancement,  he 
caused  a  friar  to  preach  a  sermon  at  the  cross  which  stood  in 
front  of  St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  in  which  he  dwelt  upon  the 
profligate  manners  of  the  late  King,  and  upon  the  late  shame 
of  Jane  Shore,  and  hinted  that  the  princes  were  not  his  chil- 
dren. k'  Whereas,  good  people,"  said  the  friar,  whose  name 
was  SHAW,  "my  Lord  the  Protector,  the  noble  Duke  of 
Gloucester,  that  sweet  prince,  the  pattern  of  all  the  noblest 
virtues,  is  the  perfect  image  and  express  likeness  of  his 
father."  There  had  been  a  little  plot  between  the  Duke  and 
the  friar,  that  the  Duke  should  appear  in  the  crowd  at  this 
moment,  when  it  was  expected  that  the  people  would  cry 
"  Long  live  King  Richard !  "  But,  either  through  the  friar 
saying  the  words  too  soon,  or  through  the  Duke's  coming  too 
late,  the  Duke  and  the  words  did  not  come  together,  and  the 
people  only  laughed,  and  the  friar  sneaked  off  ashamed. 

The  Duke  of  Buckingham  was  a  better  hand  at  such  busi- 
ness than  the  friar,  so  he  went  to  the  Guildhall  the  next  day, 
and  addressed  the  citizens  in  the  Lord  Protector's  behalf. 
A  few  dirty  men,  who  had  been  hired  and  stationed  there  for 
the  purpose,  crying  when  he  had  done,  "  God  save  King 
Richard ! "  he  made  them  a  great  bow,  and  thanked  them 
with  all  his  heart.  Next  day,  to  make  an  end  of  it,  he  went 
with  the  mayor  and  some  lords  and  citizens  to  Ba3-ard  Castle, 
by  the  river,  where  Richard  then  was,  and  read  an  address, 
humbly  entreating  him  to  accept  the  Crown  of  England. 
Richard,  who  looked  down  upon  them  out  of  a  window  and 
pretended  to  be  in  great  uneasiness  and  alarm,  assured  them 
there  was  nothing  he  desired  less,  and  that  his  deep  affection 
for  his  nephews  forbade  him  to  think  of  it.  To  this  the 
Duke  of  Buckingham  replied,  with  pretended  warmth,  that 
the  free  people  of  England  would  never  submit  to  his  nephew's 


EDWAKD   THE   FIFTH.  261 

rule,  and  that  if  Richard,  who  was  the  lawful  heir,  refused 
the  Crown,  why  then  they  must  find  some  one  else  to  wear  it. 
The  Duke  of  Gloucester  returned,  that  since  he  used  that 
strong  language,  it  became  his  painful  duty  to  think  no  more 
of  himself,  and  to  accept  the  Crown. 

Upon  that,  the  people  cheered  and  dispersed ;  and  the 
Duke  of  Gloucester  and  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  passed  a 
pleasant  evening,  talking  over  the  play  they  had  just  acted 
with  so  much  success,  and  every  word  of  which  they  had  pre- 
pared together. 


262  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

ENGLAND  UNDER  RICHARD  THE  THIRD. 

KING  RICHARD  THE  THIRD  was  up  betimes  in  the  morning, 
and  went  to  Westminster  Hall.  In  the  Hall  was  a  marble 
seat,  upon  which  he  sat  himself  down  between  two  great 
noblemen,  and  told  the  people  that  he  began  the  new  reign 
in  that  place,  because  the  first  duty  of  a  sovereign  was  to 
administer  the  laws  equally  to  all.  and  to  maintain  justice. 
He  then  mounted  his  horse  and  rode  back  to  the  City,  where 
he  was  received  by  the  clergy  and  the  crowd  as  if  he  really 
had  a  right  to  the  throne,  and  really  were  a  just  man.  The 
clergy  and  the  crowd  must  have  been  rather  ashamed  of 
themselves  in  secret,  I  think,  for  being  such  poor-spirited 
knaves. 

The  new  King  and  his  Queen  were  soon  crowned  with  a 
great  deal  of  show  and  noise,  which  the  people  liked  very 
much;  and  then  the  King  set  forth  on  a  royal  progress 
through  his  dominions.  He  was  crowned  a  second  time  at 
York,  in  order  that  the  people  might  have  show  and  noise 
enough ;  and  wherever  he  went  was  received  with  shouts  of 
rejoicing  —  from  a  good  many  people  of  strong  lungs,  who 
were  paid  to  strain  their  throats  in  crying,  "  God  save  King 
Richard  ! '  The  plan  was  so  successful  that  I  am  told  it  has 
been  imitated  since,  by  other  usurpers,  in  other  progresses 
through  other  dominions. 

While  he  was  on  this  journey,  King  Richard  stayed  a  week 
at  Warwick.  And  from  Wai-wick  he  sent  instructions  home 
for  one  of  the  wickedest  murders  that  ever  was  done  —  the 
murder  of  the  two  young  princes,  his  nephews,  who  were 
shut  up  in  the  Tower  of  London. 


RICHARD   THE   THIRD.  263 

Sir  Robert  Brackenbury  was  at  that  time  Governor  of  the 
Tower.  To  him,  by  the  hands  of  a  messenger  named  JOHN 
GREEN,  did  King  Richard  send  a  letter,  ordering  him  by 
some  means  to  put  the  two  young  princes  to  death.  But  Sir 
Robert  —  I  hope  because  he  had  children  of  his  own,  and 
loved  them  —  sent  John  Green  back  again,  riding  and  spur- 
ring along  the  dusty  roads,  with  the  answer  that  he  could  not 
do  so  horrible  a  piece  of  work.  The  King,  having  frowningly 
considered  a  little,  called  to  him  SIR  JAMES  TYUREL,  his  mas- 
ter of  the  horse,  and  to  him  gave  authority  to  take  command 
of  the  Tower,  whenever  he  would,  for  twenty-four  hours,  and 
to  keep  all  the  keys  of  the  Tower  during  that  space  of  time. 
Tyrrel,  well  knowing  what  was  wanted,  looked  about  him  for 
two  hardened  ruffians,  and  chose  JOHN  DIGHTON,  one  of  his 
own  grooms,  and  MILES  FOREST,  who  was  a  murderer  by 
trade.  Having  secured  these  two  assistants,  he  went,  upon 
a  day  in  August,  to  the  Tower,  showed  his  authority  from 
the  King,  took  the  command  for  four-and-twenty  hours,  and 
obtained  possession  of  the  keys.  And  when  the  black  night 
came,  he  went  creeping,  creeping,  like  a  guilty  villain  as  he 
was,  up  the  dark  stone  winding  stairs,  and  along  the  dark 
stone  passages,  until  he  came  to  the  door  of  the  room  where 
the  two  young  princes,  having  said  their  pra}rers,  lay  fast 
asleep,  clasped  in  each  other's  arms.  And  while  he  watched 
and  listened  at  the  door,  he  sent  in  those  evil  demons,  John 
Dighton  and  Miles  Forest,  who  smothered  the  two  princes 
with  the  bed  and  pillows,  and  carried  their  bodies  down  the 
stairs,  and  buried  them  under  a  great  heap  of  stones  at 
the  staircase  foot.  And  when  the  day  came,  he  gave  up 
the  command  of  the  Tower,  and  restored  the  keys,  and  hur- 
ried away  without  once  looking  behind  him  ;  and  Sir  Robert 
Brackenbuiy  went  with  fear  and  sadness  to  the  princes'  room, 
and  found  the  princes  gone  for  ever. 

You  know,  through  all  this  history,  how  true  it  is  that 
traitors  are  never  true,  and  you  will  not  be  surprised  to  learn 
that  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  soon  turned  against  King  Rich- 


264  A   CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

ard,  and  joined  a  great  conspiracy  that  was  formed  to  de- 
throne him,  and  to  place  the  crown  upon  its  rightful  owner's 
head.  Richard  had  meant  to  keep  the  murder  secret;  but 
when  he  heard  through  his  spies  that  this  conspiracy  existed, 
and  that  many  lords  and  gentlemen  drank  in  secret  to  the 
healths  of  the  two  young  princes  in  the  Tower,  he  made  it 
known  that  they  were  dead.  The  conspirators,  though 
thwarted  for  a  moment,  soon  resolved  to  set  up  for  the  crown 
against  the  murderous  Richard,  HENRY  Earl  of  Richmond, 
grandson  of  Catherine :  that  widow  of  Henry  the  Fifth  who 
married  Owen  Tudor.  And  as  Henry  was  of  the  house  of 
Lancaster,  they  proposed  that  he  should  marry  the  Princess 
Elizabeth,  the  eldest  daughter  of  the  late  King,  now  the  heir- 
ess of  the  house  of  York,  and  thus  by  uniting  the  rival  families 
put  an  end  to  the  fatal  wars  of  the  Red  and  White  Roses. 
All  being  settled,  a  time  was  appointed  for  Henry  to  come 
over  from  Brittany,  and  for  a  great  rising  against  Richard  to 
take  place  in  several  parts  of  England  at  the  same  hour.  On 
a  certain  day,  therefore,  in  October,  the  revolt  took  place ; 
but  unsuccessfully.  Richard  was  prepared,  Henry  was  driven 
back  at  sea  by  a  storm,  his  followers  in  England  were  dis- 
persed, and  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  was  taken,  and  at  once 
beheaded  in  the  market-place  at  Salisbury. 

The  time  of  his  success  was  a  good  time,  Richard  thought, 
for  summoning  a  Parliament  and  getting  some  money.  So, 
a  Parliament  was  called,  and  it  flattered  and  fawned  upon 
him  as  much  as  he  could  possibly  desire,  and  declared  him  to 
be  the  rightful  King  of  England,  and  his  only  son  Edward, 
then  eleven  years  of  age,  the  next  heir  to  the  throne. 

Richard  knew  full  well  that,  let  the  Parliament  say  what  it 
would,  the  Princess  Elizabeth  was  remembered  by  people  as 
the  heiress  of  the  house  of  York  ;  and  having  accurate  infor- 
mation besides,  of  its  being  designed  by  the  conspirators  to 
marry  her  to  Henry  of  Richmond,  he  felt  that  it  would  much 
strengthen  him  and  weaken  them,  to  be  beforehand  with  them, 
and  marry  her  to  his  son.  With  this  view  he  went  to  the 


RICHARD  THE   THIRD.  265 

Sanctuary  at  Westminster,  where  the  late  King's  widow  and 
her  daughter  still  were,  and  besought  them  to  come  to  Court : 
where  (he  swore  by  anything  and  everything)  they  should  be 
safety  and  honorably  entertained.  They  came,  accordingly, 
but  had  scarcely  been  at  Court  a  month  when  his  son  died 
suddenly  —  or  was  poisoned  —  and  his  plan  was  crushed  to 
pieces. 

In  this  extremity,  King  Eichard,  always  active,  thought, 
"  I  must  make  another  plan."  And  he  made  the  plan  of 
marrying  the  Princess  Elizabeth  himself,  although  she  was 
his  niece.  There  was  one  difficulty  in  the  way :  his  wife,  the 
Queen  Anne,  was  alive.  But,  he  knew  (remembering  his 
nephews)  how  to  remove  that  obstacle,  and  he  made  love  to 
the  Princess  Elizabeth,  telling  her  he  felt  perfectly  confident 
that  the  Queen  would  die  in  February.  The  Princess  was 
not  a  very  scrupulous  young  lady,  for,  instead  of  rejecting 
the  murderer  of  her  brothers  with  scorn  and  hatred,  she 
openly  declared  she  loved  him  dearly ;  and,  when  February 
came  and  the  Queen  did  not  die,  she  expressed  her  impatient 
opinion  that  she  was  too  long  about  it.  However,  King  Rich- 
ard was  not  so  far  out  in  his  prediction,  but  that  she  died  in 
March  —  he  took  good  care  of  that  —  and  then  this  precious 
pair  hoped  to  be  married.  But  they  were  disappointed,  for 
the  idea  of  such  a  marriage  was  so  unpopular  in  the  country, 
that  the  King's  chief  counsellors,  RATCLIFFE  and  CATESBY, 
would  by  no  means  undertake  to  propose  it,  and  the  King 
was  even  obliged  to  declare  in  public  that  he  had  never  thought 
of  such  a  thing. 

He  was,  by  this  time,  dreaded  and  hated  by  all  classes  of 
his  subjects.  His  nobles  deserted  every  da}?  to  Henry's  side  ; 
he  dared  not  call  another  Parliament,  lest  his  crimes  should 
be  denounced  there  ;  and  for  want  of  money,  lie  was  obliged 
to  get  Benevolences  from  the  citizens,  which  exasperated 
them  all  against  him.  It  was  said  too,  that,  being  stricken 
by  his  conscience,  he  dreamed  frightful  dreams,  and  started 
up  in  the  iiight-tirne,  wild  with  terror  and  remorse.  Active 


266  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

to  the  last,  through  all  this,  he  issued  vigorous  proclamations 
against  Heniy  of  Richmond  and  all  his  followers,  when  he 
heard  that  they  were  coming  against  him  with  a  Fleet  from 
France ;  and  took  the  field  as  fierce  and  savage  as  a  wild 
boar  —  the  animal  represented  on  his  shield. 

Henry  of  Richmond  landed  with  six  thousand  men  at  Mil- 
ford  Haven,  and  came  on  against  King  Richard,  then  en- 
camped at  Leicester  with  an  army  twice  as  great,  through 
North  Wales.  On  Bosworth  Field  the  two  armies  met ;  and 
Richard,  looking  along  Henry's  ranks,  and  seeing  them 
crowded  with  the  English  nobles  who  had  abandoned  him, 
turned  pale  when  he  beheld  the  powerful  Lord  Stanley  and 
his  son  (whom  he  had  tried  hard  to  retain)  among  them. 
But,  he  was  as  brave  as  he  was  wicked,  and  plunged  into  the 
thickest  of  the  fight.  He  was  riding  hither  and  thither,  laying 
about  him  in  all  directions,  when  he  observed  the  Earl  of 
Northumberland  —  one  of  his  few  great  allies  —  to  stand  in- 
active, and  the  main  body  of  his  troops  to  hesitate.  At  the 
same  moment,  his  desperate  glance  caught  Henry  of  Richmond 
among  a  little  group  of  his  knights.  Riding  hard  at  him,  and 
crying  "Treason!"  he  killed  his  standard-bearer,  fiercely 
unhorsed  another  gentleman,  and  aimed  a  powerful  stroke  at 
Heniy  himself,  to  cut  him  down.  But,  Sir  William  Stanley 
parried  it  as  it  fell,  and  before  Richard  could  raise  his  arm 
again,  he  was  borne  down  in  a  press  of  numbers,  unhorsed, 
and  killed.  Lord  Stanle}-  picked  up  the  crown,  all  bruised 
and  trampled,  and  stained  with  blood,  and  put  it  upon  Rich- 
mond's head,  amid  loud  and  rejoicing  cries  of  "Long  live 
King  Henry  !  " 

That  night,  a  horse  was  led  up  to  the  church  of  the  Grey 
Friars  at  Leicester ;  across  whose  back  was  tied,  like  some 
worthless  sack,  a  naked  body  brought  there  for  burial.  It 
was  the  body  of  the  last  of  the  Plantagenet  line,  King  Rich- 
ard the  Third,  usurper  and  murderer,  slain  at  the  battle  of 
Bosworth  Field  in  the  thirty-second  year  of  his  age,  after  a 
reign  of  two  years. 


HENRY  THE   SEVENTH.  267 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 

ENGLAND   UNDER   HENRY   THE    SEVENTH. 

KING  HENRY  THE  SEVENTH  did  not  turn  out  to  be  as  fine 
a  fellow  as  the  nobility  and  people  hoped,  in  the  first  jo}-  of 
their  deliverance  from  Richard  the  Third.  He  was  very  cold, 
crafty,  and  calculating,  and  would  do  almost  anything  for 
money.  He  possessed  considerable  ability,  but  his  chief 
merit  appears  to  have  been  that  he  was  not  cruel  when  there 
was  nothing  to  be  got  by  it. 

The  new  King  had  promised  the  nobles  who  had  espoused 
his  cause  that  he  would  many  the  Princess  Elizabeth.  The 
first  thing  he  did,  was,  to  direct  her  to  be  removed  from  the 
castle  of  Sheriff  Hutton  in  Yorkshire,  where  Richard  had 
placed  her,  and  restored  to  the  care  of  her  mother  in  London. 
The  j'oung  Earl  of  Warwick,  Edward  Plantagenet,  son  and 
heir  of  the  late  Duke  of  Clarence,  had  been  kept  a  prisoner 
in  the  same  old  Yorkshire  Castle  with  her.  This  bo}',  who 
was  now  fifteen,  the  new  King  placed  in  the  Tower  for  safety. 
Then  he  came  to  London  in  great  state,  and  gratified  the 
people  with  a  fine  procession  ;  on  which  kind  of  show  he  often 
very  much  relied  for  keeping  them  in  good  humor.  The 
sports  and  feasts  which  took  place  were  followed  by  a  terrible 
fever,  called  the  Sweating  Sickness  ;  of  which  great  numbers 
of  people  died.  Lord  Mayors  and  Aldermen  are  thought  to 
have  suffered  most  from  it;  whether,  because  they  were  in 
the  habit  of  overeating  themselves,  or  because  they  were  very 
jealous  of  preserving  filth  and  nuisances  in  the  City  (as  they 
have  been  since) ,  I  don't  know. 

The  King's  coronation  was  postponed  on  account  of  the 


268  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

general  ill-health,  and  he  afterwards  deferred  his  marriage, 
as  if  he  were  not  very  anxious  that  it  should  take  place  :  and, 
even  after  that,  deferred  the  Queen's  coronation  so  long  that 
he  gave  offence  to  the  York  party.  However,  he  set  these 
things  right  in  the  end,  by  hanging  some  men  and  seizing  on 
the  rich  possessions  of  others ;  by  granting  more  popular 
pardons  to  the  followers  of  the  late  King  than  could,  at  first, 
be  got  from  him  ;  and,  by  employing  about  his  Court,  some 
not  very  scrupulous  persons  who  had  been  employed  in  the 
previous  reign. 

As  this  reign  was  principally  remarkable  for  two  very 
curious  impostures  which  have  become  famous  in  history,  we 
will  make  those  two  stories  its  principal  feature. 

There  was  a  priest  at  Oxford  of  the  name  of  Simons,  who 
had  for  a  pupil  a  handsome  boy  named  Lambert  Simuel,  the 
son  of  a  baker.  Partly  to  gratify  his  own  ambitious  ends, 
and  partly  to  carry  out  the  designs  of  a  secret  part}-  formed 
against  the  King,  this  priest  declared  that  his  pupil,  the  boy, 
was  no  other  than  the  young  Earl  of  Warwick  ;  who  (as  every- 
body might  have  known)  was  safely  locked  up  in  the  Tower 
of  London.  The  priest  and  the  boy  went  over  to  Ireland ; 
and,  at  Dublin,  enlisted  in  their  cause  all  ranks  of  the  people : 
who  seem  to  have  been  generous  enough,  but  exceedingly 
irrational.  The  Earl  of  Kildare,  the  governor  of  Ireland, 
declared  that  he  believed  the  boy  to  be  what  the  priest  repre- 
sented ;  and  the  boy,  who  had  been  well  tutored  by  the  priest, 
told  them  such  things  of  his  childhood,  and  gave  them  so 
many  descriptions  of  the  Royal  Family,  that  they  were  per- 
petually shouting  and  hurrahing,  and  drinking  his  health,  and 
making  all  kinds  of  noisy  and  thirsty  demonstrations,  to  ex- 
press their  belief  in  him.  Nor  was  this  feeling  confined  to 
Ireland  alone,  for  the  Earl  of  Lincoln  —  whom  the  late  usurper 
had  named  as  his  successor  —  went  over  to  the  young  Pre- 
tender ;  and,  after  holding  a  secret  correspondence  with  the 
Dowager  Duchess  of  Burgundy  —  the  sister  of  Edward  the 
Fourth,  who  detested  the  present  King  and  all  his  race  — 


HENEY  THE  SEVENTH.  269 

sailed  to  Dublin  with  two  thousand  German  soldiers  of  her 
providing.  In  this  promising  state  of  the  boy's  fortunes,  he 
was  crowned  there,  with  a  crown  taken  off  the  head  of  a  statue 
of  the  Virgin  Mary  ;  and  was  then,  according  to  the  Irish 
custom  of  those  days,  carried  home  on  the  shoulders  of  a  big 
chieftain  possessing  a  great  deal  more  strength  than  sense. 
Father  Simons,  you  may  be  sure,  was  mighty  busy  at  the 
coronation. 

Ten  days  afterwards,  the  Germans,  and  the  Irish,  and  the 
priest  and  the  boy,  and  the  Earl  of  Lincoln,  all  landed 
in  Lancashire  to  invade  England.  The  King,  who  had  good 
intelligence  of  their  movements,  set  up  his  standard  at  Not- 
tingham, where  vast  numbers  resorted  to  him  every  day ; 
while  the  Earl  of  Lincoln  could  gain  but  very  few.  With  this 
small  force  he  tried  to  make  for  the  town  of  Newark ;  but  the 
King's  army  getting  between  him  and  that  place,  he  had  "no 
choice  but  to  risk  a  battle  at  Stoke.  It  soon  ended  in  the 
complete  destruction  of  the  Pretender's  forces ;  one  half  of 
whom  were  killed  :  among  them  the  Earl  himself.  The  priest 
and  the  baker's  boy  were  taken  prisoners.  The  priest,  after 
confessing  the  trick,  was  shut  up  in  prison,  where  he  after- 
wards died  —  suddenly  perhaps.  The  boy  was  taken  into 
the  King's  kitchen  and  made  a  turnspit.  He  was  afterwards 
raised  to  the  station  of  one  of  the  King's  falconers ;  and  so 
ended  this  strange  imposition. 

There  seems  reason  to  suspect  that  the  Dowager  Queen  — 
alwa}rs  a  restless  and  busy  woman  —  had  had  some  share  in 
tutoring  the  baker's  son.  The  King  was  very  angry  with  her, 
whether  or  no.  He  seized  upon  her  property,  and  shut  her 
up  in  a  convent  at  Bermondsey. 

One  might  suppose  that  the  end  of  this  story  would  have 
put  the  Irish  people  on  their  guard ;  but  they  were  quite 
ready  to  receive  a  second  impostor,  as  they  had  received  the 
first  and  that  same  troublesome  Duchess  of  Burgundy  soon 
gave  them  the  opportunity.  All  of  a  sudden  there  appeared 
at  Cork,  in  a  vessel  arriving  from  Portugal,  a  young  man  of 


270  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

excellent  abilities,  of  very  handsome  appearance  and  most 
winning  manners,  who  declared  himself  to  be  Richard,  Duke 
of  York,  the  second  son  of  King  Edward  the  Fourth.  "  O," 
said  some,  even  of  those  ready  Irish  believers,  "but  surely 
that  young  Prince  was  murdered  by  his  uncle  in  the  Tower !  " 
—  "It  is  supposed  so,"  said  the  engaging  young  man  ;  "  and 
my  brother  -was  killed  in  that  gloomy  prison :  but  I  es- 
caped —  it  don't  matter  how,  at  present  —  and  have  been 
wandering  about  the  world  for  seven  long  years."  This  ex- 
planation being  quite  satisfactory  to  numbers  of  the  Irish 
people,  they  began  again  to  shout  and  to  hurrah,  and  to  drink 
his  health,  and  to  make  the  noisy  and  thirsty  demonstrations 
all  over  again.  And  the  big  chieftain  in  Dublin  began  to 
look  out  for  another  coronation,  and  another  3"oung  King  to 
be  carried  home  on  his  back. 

Now,  King  Henry  being  then  on  bad  terms  with  France, 
the  French  King,  Charles  the  Eighth,  saw  that,  by  pretending 
to  believe  in  the  handsome  young  man,  he  could  trouble  his 
enemy  sorely.  So,  he  invited  him  over  to  the  French  Court, 
and  appointed  him  a  body-guard,  and  treated  him  in  all 
respects  as  if  he  really  were  the  Duke  of  York.  Peace, 
however,  being  soon  concluded  between  the  two  Kings,  the 
pretended  Duke  was  turned  adrift,  and  wandered  for  pro- 
tection to  the  Duchess  of  Burgundy.  She,  after  feigning 
to  inquire  into  the  reality  of  his  claims,  declared  him  to  be 
the  very  picture  of  her  dear  departed  brother ;  gave  him  a 
body-guard  at  her  Court,  of  thirty  halberdiers ;  and  called 
him  by  the  sounding  name  of  the  White  Rose  of  England. 

The  leading  members  of  the  White  Rose  party  in  England 
sent  over  an  agent,  named  Sir  Robert  Clifford,  to  ascertain 
whether  the  White  Rose's  claims  were  good ;  the  King  also 
sent  over  his  agents  to  inquire  into  the  Rose's  history.  The 
White  Roses  declared  the  young  man  to  be  really  the  Duke 
of  York  ;  the  King  declared  him  to  be  PERKIN  WARBECK,  the 
son  of  a  merchant  of  the  city  of  Tournay,  who  had  acquired 
his  knowledge  of  England,  its  language  and  manners,  from 


HENRY  THE   SEVENTH.  271 

the  English  merchants  who  traded  in  Flanders  ;  it  -was  also 
stated  by  the  Royal  agents  that  he  had  been  in  the  service  of 
Lady  Brompton,  the  wife  of  an  exiled  English  nobleman,  and 
that  the  Duchess  of  Burgundy  had  caused  him  to  be  trained 
and  taught,  expressly  for  this  deception.  The  King  then 
required  the  Archduke  Philip  —  who  was  the  sovereign  of 
Burgundy  —  to  banish  this  new  Pretender,  or  to  deliver  him 
up ;  but,  as  the  Archduke  replied  that  he  could  not  control 
the  Duchess  in  her  own  land,  the  King,  in  revenge,  took  the 
market  of  English  cloth  away  from  Antwerp,  and  prevented 
all  commercial  intercourse  between  the  two  countries. 

He  also,  by  arts  and  bribes,  prevailed  on  Sir  Robert  Clif- 
ford to  betray  his  employers  ;  and  he  denouncing  several 
famous  English  noblemen  as  being  secretly  the  friends  of 
Perkin  Warbeck,  the  King  had  three  of  the  foremost  exe- 
cuted at  once.  Whether  he  pardoned  the  remainder  because 
they  were  poor,  I  do  not  know ;  but  it  is  only  too  probable 
that  he  refused  to  pardon  one  famous  nobleman  against 
whom  the  same  Clifford  soon  afterwards  informed  separately, 
because  he  was  rich.  This  was  no  other  than  Sir  William 
Stanle}T,  who  had  saved  the  King's  life  at  the  battle  of  Bos- 
worth  Field.  It  is  very  doubtful  whether  his  treason  amounted 
to  much  more  than  his  having  said,  that  if  he  were  sure  the 
young  man  was  the  Duke  of  York,  he  would  not  take  arms 
against  him.  Whatever  he  had  done  he  admitted,  like  an 
honorable  spirit ;  and  he  lost  his  head  for  it,  and  the  covetous 
King  gained  all  his  wealth. 

Perkin  Warbeck  kept  quiet  for  three  years,  but,  as  the 
Flemings  began  to  complain  heavily  of  the  loss  of  their  trade 
by  the  stoppage  of  the  Antwerp  market  on  his  account,  and 
that  it  was  not  unlikely  that  they  might  even  go  so  far  as  to 
take  his  life,  or  give  him  up,  he  found  it  necessary  to  do 
something.  Accordingly  he  made  a  desperate  sally,  and 
landed,  with  only  a  few  hundred  men,  on  the  coast  of  Deal. 
But  he  was  soon  glad  to  get  back  to  the  place  from  whence 
he  came ;  for  the  country  people  rose  against  his  followers, 


272  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

killed  a  great  many,  and  took  a  hundred  and  fifty  prisoners : 
who  were  all  driven  to  London,  tied  together  with  ropes,  like 
a  team  of  cattle.  Every  one  of  them  was  hanged  on  some 
part  or  other  of  the  sea-shore ;  in  order,  that  if  any  more 
men  should  come  over  with  Perkin  Warbeck,  they  might  see 
the  bodies  as  a  warning  before  they  landed. 

Then  the  wary  King,  by  making  a  treaty  of  commerce  with 
the  Flemings,  drove  Perkin  Warbeck  out  of  that  countiy ; 
and,  by  completely  gaining  over  the  Irish  to  his  side,  deprived 
him  of  that  as}'lum  too.  He  wandered  away  to  Scotland, 
and  told  his  story  at  that  Court.  King  James  the  Fourth  of 
Scotland,  who  was  no  friend  to  King  Henry,  and  had  no 
reason  to  be  (for  King  Henry  had  bribed  his  Scotch  lords  to 
betray  him  more  than  once  ;  but  had  never  succeeded  in  his 
plots)  gave  him  a  great  reception,  called  him  his  cousin,  and 
gave  him  in  marriage  the  Lady  Catherine  Gordon,  a  beauti- 
ful and  charming  creature  related  to  the  royal  house  of  Stuart. 

Alarmed  by  this  successful  reappearance  of  the  Pretender, 
the  King  still  undermined,  and  bought,  and  bribed,  and  kept 
his  doings  and  Perkin  Warbeck's  story  in  the  dark,  when  he 
might,  one  would  imagine,  have  rendered  the  matter  clear  to 
all  England.  But,  for  all  this  bribing  of  the  Scotch  lords  at 
the  Scotch  King's  Court,  he  could  not  procure  the  Pretender 
to  be  delivered  up  to  him.  James,  though  not  very  particu- 
lar in  many  respects,  would  not  betray  him ;  and  the  ever- 
busy  Duchess  of  Burgundy  so  provided  him  with  arms,  and 
good  soldiers,  and  with  money  besides,  that  he  had  soon  a  little 
army  of  fifteen  hundred  men  of  various  nations.  With  these, 
and  aided  by  the  Scottish  King  in  person,  he  crossed  the  bor- 
der into  England,  and  made  a  proclamation  to  the  people,  in 
which  he  called  the  King  "Henry  Tudor;"  offered  large 
rewards  to  an}r  who  should  take  or  distress  him  ;  and  an- 
nounced himself  as  King  Richard  the  Fourth  come  to  receive 
the  homage  of  his  faithful  subjects.  His  faithful  subjects, 
however,  cared  nothing  for  him,  and  hated  his  faithful  troops  : 
who,  being  of  different  nations,  quarrelled  also  among  them- 


HENRY  THE   SEVENTH.  273 

selves.  "Worse  than  this,  if  worse  were  possible,  they  began 
to  plunder  the  country ;  upon  which  the  White  Rose  said, 
that  he  would  rather  lose  his  rights  than  gain  them  through 
the  miseries  of  the  English  people.  The  Scottish  King  made 
a  jest  of  his  scruples ;  but  they  and  their  whole  force  went 
back  again  without  fighting  a  battle. 

The  worst  consequence  of  this  attempt  was  that  a  rising 
took  place  among  the  people  of  Cornwall,  who  considered 
themselves  too  heavily  taxed  to  meet  the  charges  of  the  ex- 
pected war.  Stimulated  by  Flammock,  a  lawyer,  and  Jos- 
eph, a  blacksmith,  and  joined  by  Lord  Audley  and  some 
other  country  gentlemen,  they  marched  on  all  the  way  to 
Deptford  Bridge,  where  they  fought  a  battle  with  the  King's 
army.  They  were  defeated  —  though  the  Cornish  men  fought 
with  great  bravery  —  and  the  lord  was  beheaded,  and  the 
lawyer  and  the  blacksmith  were  hanged,  drawn,  and  quar- 
tered. The  rest  were  pardoned.  The  King,  who  believed 
every  man  to  be  as  avaricious  as  himself,  and  thought  that 
money  could  settle  anything,  allowed  them  to  make  bargains 
for  their  liberty  with  the  soldiers  who  had  taken  them. 

Perkin  Warbeck,  doomed  to  wander  up  and  down,  and 
never  to  find  rest  anywhere  —  a  sad  fate :  almost  a  suffi- 
cient punishment  for  an  impostor,  which  he  seems  in  time 
to  have  half  believed  himself — lost  his  Scottish  refuge 
through  a  truce  being  made  between  the  two  Kings ;  and 
found  himself,  once  more,  without  a  country  before  him  in 
which  he  could  lay  his  head.  But  James  (always  honorable 
and  true  to  him,  alike  when  he  melted  down  his  plate,  and 
even  the  great  gold  chain  he  had  been  used  to  wear,  to  pay 
soldiers  in  his  cause ;  and  now,  when  that  cause  was  lost 
and  hopeless)  did  not  conclude  the  treaty,  until  he  had  safely 
departed  out  of  the  Scottish  dominions.  He,  and  his  beauti- 
ful wife,  who  was  faithful  to  him  under  all  reverses,  and  left 
her  state  and  home  to  follow  his  poor  fortunes,  were  put 
aboard  ship  with  everything  necessary  for  their  comfort  and 
protection,  and  sailed  for  Ireland. 

18 


274  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

But  the  Irish  people  had  had  enough  of  counterfeit  Earls 
of  Warwick  and  Dukes  of  York,  for  one  while  ;  and  would 
give  the  White  Rose  no  aid.  So,  the  White  Rose  —  encir- 
cled by  thorns  indeed  —  resolved  to  go  with  his  beautiful 
wife  to  Cornwall  as  a  forlorn  resource,  and  see  what  might 
be  made  of  the  Cornish  men  who  had  risen  so  valiantly  a 
little  while  before,  and  had  fought  so  bravely  at  Deptford 
Bridge. 

To  Whitsand  Bay,  in  Cornwall,  accordingly,  came  Perkin 
Warbeck  and  his  wife ;  and  the  lovely  lady  he  shut  up  for 
safety  in  the  Castle  of  St.  Michael's  Mount,  and  then  marched 
into  Devonshire  at  the  head  of  three  thousand  Cornish  men. 
These  were  increased  to  six  thousand  by  the  time  of  his 
arrival  in  Exeter ;  but  there  the  people  made  a  stout  resist- 
ance and  he  went  on  to  Taunton,  where  he  came  in  sight  of 
the  King's  arm}'.  The  stout  Cornish  men,  although  they 
were  few  in  number,  and  badly  armed,  were  so  bold  that 
they  never  thought  of  retreating ;  but  bravely  looked  for- 
ward to  a  battle  on  the  morrow.  Unhappily  for  them,  the 
man  who  was  possessed  of  so  many  engaging  qualities,  and 
who  attracted  as  many  people  to  his  side  when  he  had  noth- 
ing else  with  which  to  tempt  them,  was  not  as  brave  as  they. 
In  the  night,  when  the  two  armies  lay  opposite  to  each 
other,  he  mounted  a  swift  horse  and  fled.  When  morning 
dawned,  the  poor  confiding  Cornish  men,  discovering  that 
the}"  had  no  leader,  surrendered  to  the  King's  power.  Some 
of  then,  were  hanged,  and  the  rest  were  pardoned  and  went 
miserably  home. 

Before  the  King  pursued  Perkin  Warbeck  to  the  sanctuary 
of  Beaulieu  in  the  New  Forest,  where  it  was  soon  known  that 
he  had  taken  refuge,  he  sent  a  body  of  horsemen  to  Saint 
Michael's  Mount  to  seize  his  wife.  She  was  soon  taken  and 
brought  as  a  captive  before  the  King.  But  she  was  so  beau- 
tiful, and  so  good,  and  so  devoted  to  the  man  in  whom  she 
believed,  that  the  King  regarded  her  with  compassion,  treated 
her  with  great  respect,  and  placed  her  at  Court,  near  the 


CONFESSION   OF  PERKIN   WABBECK. 


HENRY  THE   SEVENTH.  275 

Queen's  person.  And  many  }-ears  after  Perkin  Warbeck  was 
no  more,  and  when  his  strange  story  had  become  like  a  nur- 
sery tale,  she  was  called  the  White  Rose,  b}T  the  people,  in 
remembrance  of  her  beauty. 

The  sanctuary  at  Beaulieu  was  soon  surrounded  by  the 
King's  men ;  and  the  King,  pursuing  his  usual  dark  art- 
ful ways,  sent  pretended  friends  to  Perkin  Warbeck  to 
persuade  him  to  come  out  and  surrender  himself.  This 
he  soon  did ;  the  King  having  taken  a  good  look  at  the 
man  of  whom  he  had  heard  so  much  —  from  behind  a  screen 
—  directed  him  to  be  well  mounted,  and  to  ride  behind  him 
at  a  little  distance,  guarded,  but  not  bound  in  any  way. 
So  they  entered  London  with  the  King's  favorite  show  —  a 
procession  ;  and  some  of  the  people  hooted  as  the  Pretender 
rode  slowly  through  the  streets  to  the  Tower ;  but  the 
greater  part  were  quiet,  and  very  curious  to  see  him.  From 
the  Tower,  he  was  taken  to  the  Palace  at  Westminster,  and 
there  lodged  like  a  gentleman,  though  closely  watched.  He 
was  examined  every  now  and  then  as  to  his  imposture ;  but 
the  King  was  so  secret  in  all  that  he  did,  that  even  then  he 
gave  it  a  consequence,  which  it  cannot  be  supposed  to  have 
in  itself  deserved. 

At  last  Perkin  Warbeck  ran  away,  and  took  refuge  in 
another  sanctuary  near  Richmond  in  Surrey.  From  this  he 
was  again  persuaded  to  deliver  himself  up ;  and,  being  con- 
veyed  to  London  he  stood  in  the  stocks  for  a  whole  day,  out- 
side Westminster  Hall,  and  there  read  a  paper  purporting  to 
be  his  full  confession,  and  relating  his  histoiy  as  the  King's 
agents  had  originally  described  it.  He  was  then  shut  up  in 
the  Tower  again,  in  the  company  of  the  Earl  of  Warwick, 
who  had  now  been  there  for  fourteen  years :  ever  since  his 
removal  out  of  Yoi'kshire,  except  when  the  King  had  had  him 
at  Court  and  had  shown  him  to  the  people,  to  prove  the  im- 
posture of  the  Baker's  boy.  It  is  but  too  probable,  when  we 
consider  the  crafty  character  of  Henry  the  Seventh,  that  these 
two  were  brought  together  for  a  cruel  purpose.  A  plot  was 


276  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

soon  discovered  between  them  and  the  keepers,  to  murder 
the  Governor,  get  possession  of  the  keys,  and  proclaim  Per- 
kin  Warbeck  as  King  Richard  the  Fourth.  That  there  was 
some  such  plot,  is  likely ;  that  they  were  tempted  into  it,  is 
at  least  as  likely ;  that  the  unfortunate  Earl  of  Warwick  — 
last  male  of  the  Plantagenet  line  —  was  too  unused  to  the 
world,  and  too  ignorant  and  simple  to  know  much  about  it, 
whatever  it  was,  is  perfectly  certain ;  and  that  it  was  the 
King's  interest  to  get  rid  of  him,  is  no  less  so.  He  was  be- 
headed on  Tower  Hill,  and  Perkin  Warbeck  was  hanged  at 
Tyburn. 

Such  was  the  end  of  the  pretended  Duke  of  York,  whose 
shadow3r  history  was  made  more  shadowy  —  and  ever  will 
be  —  by  the  mystery  and  craft  of  the  King.  If  he  had  turned 
his  great  natural  advantages  to  a  more  honest  account,  he 
might  have  lived  a  happy  and  respected  life  even  in  those 
days.  But  he  died  upon  a  gallows  at  Tyburn,  leaving  the 
Scottish  lady  who  had  loved  him  so  well,  kindly  protected  at 
the  Queen's  Court.  After  some  time  she  forgot  her  old  loves 
and  troubles,  as  many  people  do  with  Time's  merciful  assist- 
ance, and  married  a  Welsh  gentleman.  Her  second  husband, 
SIR  MATTHEW  CRADOC,  more  honest  and  more  happy  than  her 
first,  lies  beside  her  in  a  tomb  in  the  old  church  of  Swansea. 

The  ill-blood  between  France  and  England  in  this  reign, 
arose  out  of  the  continued  plotting  of  the  Duchess  of  Bur- 
gundy, and  disputes  respecting  the  affairs  of  Brittany.  The 
King  feigned  to  be  very  patriotic,  indignant,  and  warlike : 
but  he  always  contrived  so  as  never  to  make  war  in  reality, 
and  always  to  make  money.  His  taxation  of  the  people,  on 
pretence  of  war  with  France,  involved,  at  one  time,  a  very 
dangerous  insurrection,  headed  by  Sir  John  Egremont,  and 
a  common  man  called  John  a  Chambre.  But  it  was  subdued 
by  the  royal  forces,  under  the  command  of  the  Earl  of  Sur- 
rey. The  knighted  John  escaped  to  the  Duchess  of  Burgun- 
dy, who  was  ever  read}'  to  receive  any  one  who  gave  the  King 
trouble  :  and  the  plain  John  was  hanged  at  York  in  the  midst 


HENRY  THE   SEVENTH.  277 

of  a  number  of  his  men,  but  on  a  much  higher  gibbet,  as 
being  a  greater  traitor.  Hung  high  or  hung  low,  however, 
hanging  is  much  the  same  to  the  person  hung. 

Within  a  year  after  her  marriage,  the  Queen  had  given 
birth  to  a  son,  who  was  called  Prince  Arthur,  in  remembrance 
of  the  old  British  Prince  of  romance  and  story ;  and  who, 
when  all  these  events  had  happened,  being  then  in  his  fif- 
teenth year,  was  married  to  CATHERINE,  the  daughter  of  the 
Spanish  monarch,  with  great  rejoicings  and  bright  prospects  ; 
but  in  a  very  few  months  he  sickened  and  died.  As  soon  as 
the  King  had  recovered  from  his  grief,  he  thought  it  a  pity 
that  the  fortune  of  the  Spanish  Princess,  amounting  to  two 
hundred  thousand  crowns,  should  go  out  of  the  family ;  and 
therefore  arranged  that  the  young  widow  should  marry  his 
second  son  HENRY,  then  twelve  years  of  age,  when  he  too 
should  be  fifteen.  There  were  objections  to  this  marriage  on 
the  part  of  the  clergy ;  but,  as  the  infallible  Pope  was  gained 
over,  and,  as  he  must  be  right,  that  settled  the  business  for 
the  time.  The  King's  eldest  daughter  was  provided  for,  and 
a  long  course  of  disturbance  was  considered  to  be  set  at  rest, 
by  her  being  married  to  the  Scottish  King. 

And  now  the  Queen  died.  When  the  King  had  got  over 
that  grief  too,  his  mind  once  more  reverted  to  his  darling 
money  for  consolation,  and  he  thought  of  marrying  the  Dow- 
ager Queen  of  Naples,  who  was  immensely  rich :  but,  as  it 
turned  out  not  to  be  practicable  to  gain  the  mone}',  however 
practicable  it  might  have  been  to  gain  the  lady,  he  gave  up 
the  idea.  He  was  not  so  fond  of  her  but  that  he  soon  pro- 
posed to  marry  the  Dowager  Duchess  of  Savoy ;  and,  soon 
afterwards,  the  widow  of  the  King  of  Castile,  who  was  rav- 
ing mad.  But  he  made  a  money-bargain  instead,  and  mar- 
ried neither. 

The  Duchess  of  Burgundy,  among  the  other  discontented 
people  to  whom  she  had  given  refuge,  had  sheltered  EDMUND 
DE  LA  POLE  (younger  brother  of  that  Earl  of  Lincoln  who  was 
killed  at  Stoke),  now  Earl  of  Suffolk.  The  King  had  pre- 


278  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

vailed  upon  him  to  return  to  the  marriage  of  Prince  Arthur ; 
but,  he  soon  afterwards  went  away  again  ;  and  then  the  King, 
suspecting  a  conspiracy,  resorted  to  his  favorite  plan  of  send- 
ing him  some  treacherous  friends,  and  buying  of  those  scoun- 
drels the  secrets  the}-  disclosed  or  invented.  Some  arrests 
and  executions  took  place  in  consequence.  In  the  end,  the 
King,  on  a  promise  of  not  taking  his  life,  obtained  posses- 
sion of  the  person  of  Edmund  de  la  Pole,  and  shut  him  up  in 
the  Tower. 

This  was  his  last  enemy.  If  he  had  lived  much  longer  he 
would  have  made  many  more  among  the  people,  by  the 
grinding  exaction  to  which  he  constantly  exposed  them,  and 
b}r  the  tyrannical  acts  of  his  two  prime  favorites  in  all 
money-raising  matters,  EDMUND  DUDLEY  and  RICHARD  EMP- 
SON.  But  Death  —  the  enemy  who  is  not  to  be  bought  off 
or  deceived,  and  on  whom  no  money,  and  no  treachery,  has 
any  effect  —  presented  himself  at  this  juncture,  and  ended 
the  King's  reign.  He  died  of  the  gout,  on  the  twenty-second 
of  April,  one  thousand  five  hundred  and  nine,  and  in  the 
fifty- third  year  of  his  age,  after  reigning  twenty-four  years  ; 
he  was  buried  in  the  beautiful  Chapel  of  Westminster  Abbey, 
which  he  had  himself  founded,  and  which  still  bears  his  name. 

It  was  in  this  reign  that  the  great  CHRISTOPHER  COLUMBUS, 
on  behalf  of  Spain,  discovered  what  was  then  called  The  New 
World.  Great  wonder,  interest,  and  hope  of  wealth  being 
awakened  in  England  thereby,  the  King  and  the  merchants 
of  London  and  Bristol  fitted  out  an  English  expedition  for 
further  discoveries  in  the  New  World,  and  entrusted  it  to 
SEBASTIAN  CABOT,  of  Bristol,  the  son  of  a  Venetian  pilot 
there.  He  was  very  successful  in  his  voyage,  and  gained 
high  reputation,  both  for  himself  and  England. 


HENRY  THE  EIGHTH.  279 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

ENGLAND   UNDER   HENRY  THE    EIGHTH,  CALLED  BLUFF  KING  HAL 
AND    BURLY   KING    HARRY. 

PART  THE  FIRST. 

WE  now  come  to  King  Henry  the  Eighth,  whom  it  has 
been  too  much  the  fashion  to  call  "Bluff  King  Hal,"  and 
"  Burly  King  Harry,"  and  other  fine  names  ;  but  whom  I 
shall  take  the  liberty  to  call,  plainly,  one  of  the  most  detest- 
able villains  that  ever  drew  breath.  You  will  be  able  to 
judge,  long  before  we  come  to  the  end  of  his  life,  whether  he 
deserves  the  character. 

He  was  just  eighteen  years  of  age  when  he  came  to  the 
throne.  People  said  he  was  handsome  then ;  but  I  don't 
believe  it.  He  was  a  big,  burly,  noisy,  small-eyed,  large- 
faced,  double-chinned,  swinish-looking  fellow  in  later  life  (as 
we  know  from  the  likenesses  of  him,  painted  by  the  famous 
HANS  HOLBEIN)  ,  and  it  is  not  easy  to  believe  that  so  bad  a 
character  can  ever  have  been  veiled  under  a  prepossessing 
appearance. 

He  was  anxious  to  make  himself  popular ;  and  the  people, 
who  had  long  disliked  the  late  King,  were  ver}r  willing  to 
believe  that  he  deserved  to  be  so.  He  was  extremely  fond  of 
show  and  display,  and  so  were  they.  Therefore  there  was 
great  rejoicing  when  he  married  the  Princess  Catherine,  and 
when  they  were  both  crowned.  And  the  King  fought  at 
tournaments  and  always  came  off  victorious  —  for  the  court- 
iers took  care  of  that  —  and  there  was  a  general  outcry  that 


280  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

he  was  a  wonderful  man.  Empson,  Dudley,  and  their  sup- 
porters were  accused  of  a  variety  of  crimes  the}7  had  never 
committed,  instead  of  the  offences  of  which  they  really  had 
been  guilty ;  and  they  were  pilloried,  and  set  upon  horses 
with  their  faces  to  the  tails,  and  knocked  about  and  beheaded, 
to  the  satisfaction  of  the  people,  and  the  enrichment  of  the 
King. 

The  Pope,  so  indefatigable  in  getting  the  world  into  trouble, 
had  mixed  himself  up  in  a  war  on  the  continent  of  Europe, 
occasioned  by  the  reigning  Princes  of  little  quarrelling  states 
in  Italy  having  at  various  times  married  into  other  Royal 
families,  and  so  led  to  their  claiming  a  share  in  those  petty 
Governments.  The  King,  who  discovered  that  he  was  very 
fond  of  the  Pope,  sent  a  herald  to  the  King  of  France,  to  say 
that  he  must  not  make  war  upon  that  holy  personage,  because 
he  was  the  father  of  all  Christians.  As  the  French  King  did 
not  mind  this  relationship  in  the  least,  and  also  refused  to 
admit  a  claim  King  Henry  made  to  certain  lands  in  France, 
war  was  declared  between  the  two  countries.  Not  to  perplex 
this  story  witli  an  account  of  the  tricks  and  designs  of  all  the 
sovereigns  who  were  engaged  in  it,  it  is  enough  to  say  that 
England  made  a  blundering  alliance  with  Spain,  and  got 
stupidly  taken  in  by  that  country ;  which  made  its  own  terms 
with  France  when  it  could,  and  left  England  in  the  lurch. 
SIR  EDWARD  HOWARD,  a  bold  Admiral,  son  of  the  Earl  of 
Surrey,  distinguished  himself  by  his  bravery  against  the 
French  in  this  business ;  but,  un fortunately,  he  was  more 
brave  than  wise,  for,  skimming  into  the  French  harbor  of 
Brest  with  only  a  few  row-boats,  he  attempted  (in  revenge 
for  the  defeat  and  death  of  SIR  THOMAS  KNYVETT,  another 
bold  English  admiral)  to  take  some  strong  French  ships,  well 
defended  with  batteries  of  cannon.  The  upshot  was  that  he 
was  left  on  board  of  one  of  them  (in  consequence  of  its 
shooting  awa}'  from  his  own  boat) ,  with  not  more  than  about 
a  dozen  men,  and  was  thrown  into  the  sea  and  drowned ; 
though  not  until  he  had  taken  from  his  breast  his  gold  chain 


HENRY  THE   EIGHTH.  281 

and  gold  whistle,  which  were  the  signs  of  his  office,  and  had 
cast  them  into  the  sea  to  prevent  their  being  made  a  boast  of 
1>3T  the  enenry.  After  this  defeat  —  which  was  a  great  one, 
for  Sir  P^dward  Howard  was  a  man  of  valor  and  fame  —  the 
King  took  it  into  his  head  to  invade  France  in  person ; 
first  executing  that  dangerous  Earl  of  Suffolk  whom  his 
father  had  left  in  the  Tower,  and  appointing  Queen  Catherine 
to  the  charge  of  his  kingdom  in  his  absence.  He  sailed  to 
Calais,  where  he  was  joined  by  MAXIMILIAN,  Emperor  of 
Germany,  who  pretended  to  be  his  soldier,  and  who  took 
pay  in  his  service :  with  a  good  deal  of  nonsense  of  that 
sort,  flattering  enough  to  the  vanity  of  a  Arain  blusterer. 
The  King  might  be  successful  enough  in  sham  fights ;  but 
his  idea  of  real  battles,  chiefty  consisted  in  pitching  silken 
tents  of  bright  colors  that  were  ignominiously  blown  down 
by  the  wind,  and  in  making  a  vast  display  of  gaudy  flags 
and  golden  curtains.  Fortune,  however,  favored  him  better 
than  he  deserved ;  for,  after  much  waste  of  time  in  tent 
pitching,  flag  flying,  gold  curtaining,  and  other  such  masquer- 
ading, he  gave  the  French  battle  at  a  place  called  Guinegate  : 
where  they  took  such  an  unaccountable  panic,  and  fled  with 
such  swiftness,  that  it  was  ever  afterwards  called  by  the 
English  the  Battle  of  Spurs.  Instead  of  following  up  his 
advantage,  the  King,  finding  that  he  had  had  enough  of  real 
fighting,  came  home  again. 

The  Scottish  King,  though  nearly  related  to  Henry  by 
marriage,  had  taken  part  against  him  in  this  war.  The  Earl 
of  Surrey,  as  the  English  general,  advanced  to  meet  him 
when  he  came  out  of  his  own  dominions  and  crossed  the  river 
Tweed.  The  two  armies  came  up  with  one  another  when  the. 
Scottish  King  had  also  crossed  the  river  Till,  and  was  en- 
camped upon  the  last  of  the  Cheviot  Hills,  called  the  Hill  of 
Floclden.  Along  the  plain  below  it,  the  English,  when  the 
hour  of  battle  came,  advanced.  The  Scottish  army,  which 
had  been  drawn  up  in  five  great  bodies,  then  came  steadily 
down  in  perfect  silence.  So  they,  in  their  turn,  advanced  to 


282  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

meet  the  English  ami}",  which  came  on  in  one  long  line ;  and 
the}-  attacked  it  with  a  body  of  spearmen,  under  LORD  HOME. 
At  first  they  had  the  best  of  it ;  but  the  English  recovered 
themselves  so  bravely,  and  fought  with  such  valor,  that,  when 
the  Scottish  King  had  almost  made  his  way  up  to  the  Royal 
standard,  he  was  slain,  and  the  whole  Scottish  power  routed. 
Ten  thousand  Scottish  men  lay  dead  that  day  on  Flodden 
Field  ;  and  among  them,  numbers  of  the  nobilit}'  and  gentry. 
For  a  long  time  afterwards,  the  Scottish  peasantr}'  used  to 
believe  that  their  King  had  not  been  realty  killed  in  this  bat- 
tle, because  no  Englishman  had  found  an  iron  belt  he  wore 
about  his  body  as  a  penance  for  having  been  an  unnatural 
and  undutiful  son.  But,  whatever  became  of  his  belt,  the 
English  had  his  sword  and  dagger,  and  the  ring  from  his 
finger,  and  his  body  too,  covered  with  wounds.  There  is  no 
doubt  of  it ;  for  it  was  seen  and  recognized  by  English  gen- 
tlemen who  had  known  the  Scottish  King  well. 

When  King  Henry  was  making  ready  to  renew  the  war  in 
France,  the  French  King  was  contemplating  peace.  His 
queen,  dying  at  this  time,  he  proposed,  though  he  was  up- 
wards of  fifty  years  old,  to  marry  King  Henry's  sister,  the 
Princess  Mary,  who,  besides  being  only  sixteen,  was  betrothed 
to  the  Duke  of  Suffolk.  As  the  inclinations  of  young  Prin- 
cesses were  not  much  considered  in  such  matters,  the  marriage 
was  concluded,  and  the  poor  girl  was  escorted  to  France, 
where  she  was  immediate!}'  left  as  the  French  King's  bride, 
with  only  one  of  all  her  English  attendants.  That  one  was 
a  pretty  3roung  girl  named  ANNE  BOLEYN,  niece  of  the  Earl 
of  Surrey,  who  had  been  made  Duke  of  Norfolk,  after  the 
victory  of  Flodden  Field.  Anne  Boleyn's  is  a  name  to  be 
remembered,  as  you  will  presently  find. 

And  now  the  French  King,  who  was  very  proud  of  his 
young  wife,  was  preparing  for  mam*  years  of  happiness,  and 
she  was  looking  forward,  I  dare  say,  to  many  3"ears  of  misery, 
when  he  died  within  three  months,  and  left  her  a  young  widow. 
The  new  French  monarch,  FIIANCIS  THE  FIRST,  seeing  how 


HENRY   THE   EIGHTH.  283 

important  it  was  to  his  interests  that  she  should  take  for 
her  second  husband  no  one  but  an  Phiglishman,  advised  her 
first  lover,  the  Duke  of  Suffolk,  when  King  Henry  sent  him 
over  to  France  to  fetch  her  home,  to  many  her.  The  Princess 
being  herself  so  fond  of  that  Duke,  as  to  tell  him  that  he 
must  either  do  so  then,  or  for  ever  lose  her,  they  were  wedded  ; 
and  Henry  afterwards  forgave  them.  In  making  interest 
with  the  King,  the  Duke  of  Suffolk  had  addressed  his  most 
powerful  favorite  and  adviser,  THOMAS  WOLSEY  —  a  name 
very  famous  in  history  for  its  rise  and  downfall. 

Wolsey  was  the  son  of  a  respectable  butcher  at  Ipswich,  in 
Suffolk,  and  received  so  excellent  an  education  that  he  be- 
came a  tutor  to  the  family  of  the  Marquis  of  Dorset,  who 
afterwards  got  him  appointed  one  of  the  late  King's  chaplains. 
On  the  accession  of  Henry  the  Eighth,  he  was  promoted  and 
taken  into  great  favor.  He  was  now  Archbishop  of  York ; 
the  Pope  had  made  him  a  Cardinal  besides  ;  and  whoever 
wanted  influence  in  England  or  favor  with  the  King  — 
whether  he  were  a  foreign  monarch  or  an  English  nobleman 
—  was  obliged  to  make  a  friend  of  the  great  Cardinal  Wol- 
sey. 

He  was  a  gay  man,  who  could  dance  and  jest,  and  sing 
and  drink  ;  and  those  were  the  roads  to  so  much,  or  rather  so 
little,  of  a  heart  as  King  Henry  had.  He  was  wonderfully 
fond  of  pomp  and  glitter,  and  so  was  the  King.  He  knew  a 
good  deal  of  the  Church  learning  of  that  time ;  much  of 
which  consisted  in  rinding  artful  excuses  and  pretences  for 
almost  amr  wrong  thing,  and  in  arguing  that  black  was  white, 
or  any  other  color.  -This  kind  of  learning  pleased  the  King 
too.  For  many  such  reasons,  the  Cardinal  was  high  in  es- 
timation with  the  King ;  and,  being  a  man  of  far  greater 
ability,  knew  as  well  how  to  manage  him,  as  a  clever  keeper 
may  know  how  to  manage  a  wolf  or  a  tiger,  or  any  other 
cruel  and  uncertain  beast,  that  may  turn  upon  him  and  tear 
him  any  day.  Never  had  there  been  seen  in  England  such 
state  as  my  Lord  Cardinal  kept.  His  wealth  was  enormous  ; 


284  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

equal,  it  was  reckoned,  to  the  riches  of  the  Crown.  His  pal- 
aces were  as  splendid  as  the  King's,  and  his  retinue  was  eight 
hundred  strong.  He  held  his  Court,  dressed  out  from  top  to 
toe  in  flaming  scarlet;  and  his  very  shoes  were  golden,  set 
with  precious  stones.  His  followers  rode  on  blood  horses  ; 
while  he,  with  a  wonderful  affectation  of  humility  in  the  midst 
of  his  great  splendor,  ambled  on  a  mule  with  a  red-velvet 
saddle  and  bridle  and  golden  stirrups. 

Through  the  influence  of  this  stately  priest,  a  grand  meet- 
ing was  arranged  to  take  place  between  the  French  and  Eng- 
lish Kings,  in  France  ;  but  on  ground  belonging  to  England. 
A  prodigious  show  of  friendship  and  rejoicing  was  to  be  made 
on  the  occasion  ;  and  heralds  were  sent  to  proclaim  with 
brazen  trumpets  through  all  the  principal  cities  of  Europe, 
that,  on  a  certain  day,  the  Kings  of  France  and  England,  as 
companions  and  brothers  in  arms,  each  attended  by  eighteen 
followers,  would  hold  a  tournament  against  all  knights  who 
might  choose  to  come. 

CHARLES,  the  new  Emperor  of  German}'  (the  old  one  being 
dead),  wanted  to  prevent  too  cordial  an  alliance  between 
these  sovereigns,  and  came  over  to  England  before  the  King 
could  repair  to  the  place  of  meeting ;  and,  besides  making  an 
agreeable  impression  upon  him,  secured  Wolsey's  interest  by 
promising  that  his  influence  should  make  him  Pope  when  the 
next  vacancy  occurred.  On  the  day  when  the  Emperor  left 
England,  the  King  and  all  the  Court  went  over  to  Calais,  and 
thence  to  the  place  of  meeting,  between  Ardres  and  Guisnes, 
commonly  called  the  Field  of  the  Cloth  of  Gold.  Here,  all 
manner  of  expense  and  prodigality  was  lavished  on  the  dec- 
orations of  the  show ;  many  of  the  knights  and  gentlemen 
being  so  superbly  dressed  that  it  was  said  they  carried  their 
whole  estates  upon  their  shoulders. 

There  were  sham  castles,  temporary  chapels,  fountains 
running  wine,  great  cellars  full  of  wine  free  as  water  to  all 
comers,  silk  tents,  gold  lace  and  foil,  gilt  lions,  and  such 
things  without  end  ;  and,  in  the  midst  of  all,  the  rich  Cardinal 


HENRY  THE  EIGHTH.  285 

out-shone  and  out-glittered  all  the  noblemen  and  gentle- 
men assembled.  After  a  treaty  made  between  the  two  Kings 
with  as  much  solemnity  as  if  they  had  intended  to  keep  it,  the 
lists  —  nine  hundred  feet  long,  and  three  hundred  and  twenty 
broad  —  were  opened  for  the  tournament ;  the  Queens  of 
France  and  England  looking  on  with  great  array  of  lords  and 
ladies.  Then,  for  ten  daj's,  the  two  sovereigns  fought  five 
combats  every  day,  and  alwa3Ts  beat  their  polite  adversaries  ; 
though  'they  do  write  that  the  King  of  England,  being  thrown 
in  a  wrestle  one  day  by  the  King  of  France,  lost  his  kingly 
temper  with  his  brother  in  arms,  and  wanted  to  make  a  quar- 
rel of  it.  Then,  there  is  a  great  story  belonging  to  this  Field 
of  the  Cloth  Of  Gold,  showing  how  the  English  were  distrust- 
ful of  the  French,  and  the  French  of  the  English,  until 
Francis  rode  alone  one  morning  to  Henry's  tent;  and,  going 
in  before  he  was  out  of  bed,  told  him  in  joke  that  he  was  his 
prisoner ;  and  h\ow  Henry  jumped  out  of  bed  and  embraced 
Francis  ;  and  ho\V  Francis  helped  Henry  to  dress,  and  warmed 
h\id  linen  for  him  ;  and  how  Henry  gave  Francis  a  splendid 
jewelled  collar,  and  how  Francis  gave  Henry,  in  return,  a 
coatly  bracelet.  All  this  and  a  great  deal  more  was  so  written 
aboYit,  and  sung  about,  and  talked  about  at  that  time  (and, 
indeed,  since  that  time  too),  that  the  world  has  had  good 
cause  to  be  sick  of  it,  for  ever. 

Of  course,  nothing  came  of  all  these  fine  doings  but  a 
speed}'  renewal  of  the  war  between  England  and  France,  in 
which  the  two  Ro3'al  companions  and  brothers  in  arms  longed 
very  earnestly  to  damage  one  another.  But,  before  it  broke 

it  again,  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  was  shamefully  executed 
onVTower  Hill,  on  the  evidence  of  a  discharged  servant,  really 
for  niothing,  except  the  folly  of  having  believed  in  a  friar  of 
the  name  of  HOPKINS,  who  had  pretended  to  be  a  prophet, 
and  who  had  mumbled  and  jumbled  out  some  nonsense  about 
the  Duke's  son  being  destined  to  be  veiy  great  in  the  land. 
It  was  believed  that  the  unfortunate  Duke  had  given  offence 
to  the  great  Cardinal  by  expressing  his  mind  freely  about  the 


286  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

expense  and  absurdity  of  the  whole  business  of  the  Field 
of  the  Cloth  of  Gold.  At  any  rate,  he  was  beheaded,  as  I 
have  said,  for  nothing.  And  the  people  who  saw  it  done 
were  very  angry,  and  cried  out  that  it  was  the  work  of  "  the 
butcher's  son ! " 

The  new  war  was  a  short  one,  though  the  Earl  of  Surrey 
invaded  France  again,  and  did  some  injury  to  that  country. 
It  ended  in  another  treaty  of  peace  between  the  two  king- 
doms, and  in  the  discovery  that  the  Emperor  of  German}-  was 
not  such  a  good  friend  to  England  in  reality,  as  he  pre- 
tended to  be.  Neither  did  he  keep  his  promise  to  Wolsey  to 
make  him  Pope,  though  the  King  urged  it.  Two  Popes  died 
in  pretty  quick  succession ;  but  the  foreign  priests  were  too 
much  for  the  Cardinal,  and  kept  him  out  of  the  post.  So  the 
Cardinal  and  King  together  found  out  that  the  Emperor 
of  German}-  was  not  a  man  to  keep  faith  with ;  broke  off  a 
projected  marriage  between  the  King's  daughter  MARY,  Prin- 
cess of  Wales,  and  that  sovereign ;  and  began  to  consider 
whether  it  might  not  be  well  to  marry  the  young  lady,  either 
to  Francis  himself,  or  to  his  eldest  son. 

There  now  arose  at  Wittemberg,  in  German}',  the  great 
leader  of  the  mighty  change  in  England  which  is  called  the 
Reformation,  and  which  set  the  people  free  from  their  slavery 
to  the  priests.  This  was  a  learned  Doctor,  named  MARTIN 
LUTHER,  who  knew  all  about  them,  for  he  had  been  a  priest, 
and  even  a  monk,  himself.  The  preaching  and  writing  of 
Wickliffe  had  set  a  number  of  men  thinking  on  this  subject ; 
and  Luther,  finding  one  day  to  his  great  surprise,  that  there 
really  was  a  book  called  the  New  Testament  which  the  priests 
did  not  allow  to  be  read,  and  which  contained  truths  that 
they  suppressed,  began  to  be  very  vigorous  against  the  whole 
body,  from  the  Pope  downward.  It  happened,  while  he  was 
yet  only  beginning  his  vast  work  of  awakening  the  nation, 
that  an  impudent  fellow  named  TETZEL,  a  friar  of  very  bad 
character,  came  into  his  neighborhood  selling  what  were 
called  Indulgences,  by  wholesale,  to  raise  money  for  beauti- 


HENRY  THE   EIGHTH.  287 

fying  the  great  Cathedral  of  St.  Peter's,  at  Rome.  Whoever 
bought  an  Indulgence  of  the  Pope  was  supposed  to  buy  him- 
self off  from  the  punishment  of  Heaven  for  his  offences.  Lu- 
ther told  the  people  that  these  Indulgences  were  worthless 
bits  of  paper,  before  God,  and  that  Tetzel  and  his  masters 
were  a  crew  of  impostors  in  selling  them. 

The  King  and  the  Cardinal  were  mightity  indignant  at  this 
presumption ;  and  the  King  (with  the  help  of  SIR  THOMAS 
MOKE,  a  wise  man,  whom  he  afterwards  repaid  b}'  striking 
off  his  head)  even  wrote  a  book  about  it,  with  which  the  Pope 
was  so  well  pleased  that  he  gave  the  King  the  title  of  De- 
fender of  the  Faith.  The  King  and  the  Cardinal  also  issued 
flaming  warnings  to  the  people  not  to  read  Luther's  books, 
on  pain  of  excommunication.  But  they  did  read  them  for  all 
that ;  and  the  rumor  of  what  was  in  them  spread  far  and 
wide. 

When  this  great  change  was  thus  going  on,  the  King  began 
to  show  himself  in  his  truest  and  worst  colors.  Anne  Boleyn, 
the  pretty  little  girl  who  had  gone  abroad  to  France  with  his 
sister,  was  by  this  time  grown  up  to  be  very  beautiful,  and 
was  one  of  the  ladies  in  attendance  on  Queen  Catherine. 
Now,  Queen  Catherine  was  no  longer  young  or  handsome, 
and  it  is  likely  that  she  was  not  particularly  good-tempered  ; 
having  been  always  rather  melancholy,  and  having  been  made 
more  so  by  the  deaths  of  four  of  her  children  when  they  were 
veiy  young.  So,  the  King  fell  in  love  with  the  fair  Anne 
Boleyn,  and  said  to  himself,  "How  can  I  be  best  rid  of  1113' 
own  troublesome  wife  whom  I  am  tired  of,  and  marry 
Anne?" 

You  recollect  that  Queen  Catherine  had  been  the  wife  of 
Henry's  brother.  What  does  the  King  do,  after  thinking  it 
over,  but  calls  his  favorite  priests  about  him,  and  sa}'s,  O ! 
his  mind  is  in  such  a  dreadful  state,  and  he  is  so  frightfully 
uneasy,  because  he  is  afraid  it  was  not  lawful  for  him  to  marry 
the  Queen !  Not  one  of  those  priests  had  the  courage  to 
hint  that  it  was  rather  curious  he  had  never  thought  of  that 


288  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

before,  and  that  his  mind  seemed  to  have  been  in  a  tolerably 
jolly  condition  during  a  great  many  years,  in  which  he  cer- 
tainlj'  had  not  fretted  himself  thin  ;  but,  they  all  said,  Ah ! 
that  was  very  true,  and  it  was  a  serious  business :  and  per- 
haps the  best  way  to  make  it  right,  would  be  for  his  Majesty 
to  be  divorced !  The  King  replied,  Yes,  he  thought  that 
would  be  the  best  wa}*,  certainly ;  so  they  all  went  to  work. 

If  I  were  to  relate  to  3*011  the  intrigues  and  plots  that  took 
place  in  the  endeavor  to  get  this  divorce,  you  would  think  the 
History  of  England  the  most  tiresome  book  in  the  world.  So 
I  shall  say  no  more,  than  that  after  a  vast  deal  of  negotiation 
and  evasion,  the  Pope  issued  a  commission  to  Cardinal  Wol- 
sey  and  CARDINAL  CAMPEGGIO  (whom  he  sent  over  from  Ital}* 
for  the  purpose)  to  try  the  whole  case  in  England.  It  is 
supposed  —  and  I  think  with  reason  —  that  Wolsey  was  the 
Queen's  enemy,  because  she  had  reproved  him  for  his  proud 
and  gorgeous  manner  of  life.  But,  he  did  not  at  first  know 
that  the  King  wanted  to  marry  Anne  Bole}-n ;  and  when  he 
did  know  it,  he  even  went  down  on  his  knees,  in  the  endeavor 
to  dissuade  him. 

The  Cardinals  opened  their  court  in  the  Convent  of  the 
Black  Friars,  near  to  where  the  bridge  of  that  name  in 
London  now  stands  ;  and  the  King  and  Queen,  that  they 
might  be  near  it,  took  up  their  lodgings  at  the  adjoining  pal- 
ace of  Bridewell,  of  which  nothing  now  remains  but  a  bad 
prison.  On  the  opening  of  the  court,  when  the  King  and 
Queen  were  called  on  to  appear,  that  poor  ill-used  lady,  witl> 
a  dignity  and  firmness  and  yet  with  a  womanly  affection 
worthy  to  be  alwa3-s  admired,  went  and  kneeled  at  the  King's 
feet,  and  said  that  she  had  come,  a  stranger,  to  his  domin- 
ions ;  that  she  had  been  a  good  and  true  wife  to  him  for 
twenty  3'ears :  and  that  she  could  acknowledge  no  power  in 
those  Cardinals  to  try  whether  she  should  be  considered  his 
wife  after  all  that  time,  or  should  be  put  away.  With  that, 
she  got  up  and  left  the  court,  and  would  never  afterwards 
come  back  to  it. 


HENRY   THE   EIGHTH.  289 

The  King  pretended  to  he  very  much  overcome,  and  said, 
O  !  my  lords  and  gentlemen,  what  a  good  woman  she  was  to 
be  sure,  and  how  delighted  he  would  be  to  live  with  her  unto 
death,  but  for  that  terrible  uneasiness  in  his  mind  which  was 
quite  wearing  him  away !  So,  the  case  went  on,  and  there 
was  nothing  but  talk  for  two  months.  Then  Cardinal  Cam- 
peggio,  who,  on  behalf  of  the  Pope,  wanted  nothing  so  much 
as  delay,  adjourned  it  for  two  more  months  ;  and  before  that 
time  was  elapsed,  the  Pope  himself  adjourned  it  indefinitely, 
by  requiring  the  King  and  Queen  to  come  to  Rome  and  have 
it  tried  there.  But  by  good  luck  for  the  King,  word  was 
brought  to  him  by  some  of  his  people,  that  they  had  hap- 
pened to  meet  at  supper,  THOMAS  CRANMER,  a  learned  Doctor 
of  Cambridge,  who  had  proposed  to  urge  the  Pope  on,  by  re- 
ferring the  case  to  all  the  learned  doctors  and  bishops,  here 
and  there  and  everywhere,  and  getting  their  opinions  that  the 
King's  marriage  was  unlawful.  The  King,  who  was  now  in 
a  hurry  to  many  Anne  Boleyn,  thought  this  such  a  good  idea, 
that  he  sent  for  Cranmer,  post  haste,  and  said  to  LORD  ROCH- 
FORT,  Anne  Boleyn's  father,  "  Take  this  learned  Doctor  down 
to  your  country-house,  and  there  let  him  have  a  good  room 
for  a  study,  and  no  end  of  books  out  of  which  to  prove  that  I 
ma}'  many  your  daughter."  Lord  Rochfort,  not  at  all  reluc- 
tant, made  the  learned  Doctor  as  comfortable  as  he  could  ;  and 
the  learned  Doctor  went  to  work  to  prove  his  case.  All  this 
time,  the  King  and  Anne  Boleyn  were  writing  letters  to  one 
another  almost  daily,  full  of  impatience  to  have  the  case 
settled ;  and  Anne  Boleyn  was  showing  herself  (as  I  think) 
very  worthy  of  the  fate  which  afterwards  befell  her. 

It  was  bad  for  Cardinal  Wolsey  that  he  had  left  Cranmer 
to  render  this  help.  It  was  worse  for  him  that  he  had  tried 
to  dissuade  the  King  from  mariying  Anne  Boleyn.  Such  a 
servant  as  he,  to  such  a  master  as  Henry,  would  probably 
have  fallen  in  any  case  ;  but,  between  the  hatred  of  the  party  of 
the  Queen  that  was,  and  the  hatred  of  the  party  of  the  Queen 
that  was  to  be,  he  fell  suddenly  and  heavily.  Going  down 

19 


290  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

one  da}*  to  the  Court  of  Chancery,  where  he  now  presided, 
he  was  waited  upon  by  the  Dukes  of  Norfolk  and  Suffolk, 
who  told  him  that  they  brought  an  order  to  him  to  resign  that 
office,  and  to  withdraw  quietly  to  a  house  he  had  at  Esher,  in 
Surrey.  The  Cardinal  refusing,  they  rode  off  to  the  King ; 
and  next  day  came  back  with  a  letter  from  him,  on  reading 
which,  the  Cardinal  submitted.  An  inventory  was  made  out 
of  all  the  riches  in  his  palace  at  York  Place  (now  Whitehall) , 
and  he  went  sorrowfully  up  the  river,  in  his  barge,  to  Putney. 
An  abject  man  he  was,  in  spite  of  his  pride ;  for  being 
overtaken,  riding  out  of  that  place  towards  Esher,  by  one  of 
the  King's  chamberlains  who  brought  him  a  kind  message  and 
a  ring,  he  alighted  from  his  mule,  took  off  his  cap,  and 
kneeled  down  in  the  dirt.  His  poor  Fool,  whom  in  his  pros- 
perous da}'s  he  had  always  kept  in  his  palace  to  entertain 
him,  cut  a  far  better  figure  than  he  ;  for,  when  the  Cardinal 
said  to  the  chamberlain  that  he  had  nothing  to  send  to  his 
lord  the  King  as  a  present,  but  that  jester  who  was  a  most 
excellent  one,  it  took  six  strong  yeomen  to  remove  the  faith- 
ful fool  from  his  master. 

The  once  proud  Cardinal  was  soon  further  disgraced,  and 
wrote  the  most  abject  letters  to  his  vile  sovereign ;  who  hum- 
bled him  one  day  and  encouraged  him  the  next,  according  to 
his  humor,  until  he  was  at  last  ordered  to  go  and  reside  in 
his  diocese  of  York.  He  said  he  was  too  poor ;  but  I  don't 
know  how  he  made  that  out,  for  he  took  a  hundred  and  sixty 
servants  with  him,  and  seventy-two  cart-loads  of  furniture, 
food,  and  wine.  He  remained  in  that  part  of  the  countiy 
for  the  best  part  of  a  year,  and  showed  himself  so  improved 
Ity  his  misfortunes,  and  was  so  mild  and  so  conciliating,  that 
he  won  all  hearts.  And  indeed,  even  in  his  proud  daj-s,  he 
had  done  some  magnificent  things  for  learning  and  education. 
At  last,  he  was  arrested  for  high  treason  ;  and,  coming  slowly 
on  his  journe}"  towards  London,  got  as  far  as  Leicester.  Ar- 
riving at  Leicester  Abbe}*  after  dark,  and  very  ill,  he  said  — 
when  the  monks  came  out  at  the  gate  with  lighted  torches  to 


HENKY   THE   EIGHTH.  291 

receive  him  —  that  he  had  come  to  lay  his  bones  among  them. 
lie  had  indeed ;  for  he  was  taken  to  a  bed,  from  which  he 
never  rose  again.  His  last  words  were,  "  Had  I  but  served 
God  as  diligently  as  I  have  served  the  King,  He  would  not 
have  given  me  over,  in  my  gray  hairs.  Howbeit,  this  is  my 
just  reward  for  my  pains  and  diligence,  not  regarding  my 
service  to  God,  but  only  my  duty  to  my  prince."  The  news 
of  his  death  was  quickly  carried  to  the  King,  who  was  amus- 
ing himself  with  archery  in  the  garden  of  the  magnificent 
palace  at  Hampton  Court,  which  that  very  Wolsey  had  pre- 
sented to  him.  The  greatest  emotion  his  royal  mind  dis- 
played at  the  loss  of  a  servant  so  faithful  and  so  ruined,  was 
a  particular  desire  to  lay  hold  of  fifteen  hundred  pounds  which 
the  Cardinal  was  reported  to  have  hidden  somewhere. 

The  opinions  concerning  the  divorce,  of  the  learned  doc- 
tors and  bishops  and  others,  being  at  last  collected,  and  being 
generally  in  the  King's  favor,  were  forwarded  to  the  Pope, 
with  an  entreaty  that  he  would  now  grant  it.  The  unfortu- 
nate Pope,  who  was  a  timid  man,  was  half  distracted  between 
his  fear  of  his  authority  being  set  aside  in  England  if  he  did 
not  do  as  he  was  asked,  and  his  dread  of  offending  the  Em- 
peror of  Germany,  who  was  Queen  Catherine's  nephew.  In 
this  state  of  mind  he  still  evaded  and  did  nothing.  Then, 
THOMAS  CROMWELL,  who  had  been  one  of  Wolsey's  faithful 
attendants,  and  had  remained  so  even  in  his  decline,  adArised 
the  King  to  take  the  matter  into  his  own  hands,  and  make 
himself  the  head  of  the  whole  Church.  This,  the  King  by 
various  artful  means,  began  to  do ;  but  he  recompensed  the 
clergy  by  allowing  them  to  burn  as  many  people  as  they 
pleased,  for  holding  Luther's  opinions.  You  must  under- 
stand that  Sir  Thomas  More,  the  wise  man  who  had  helped 
the  King  with  his  book,  had  been  made  Chancellor  in  Wol- 
sey's place.  But,  as  he  was  truly  attached  to  the  Church 
as  it  was  even  in  its  abuses,  he,  in  this  state  of  things,  re- 
signed. 

Being  now  quite  resolved  to  get  rid  of  Queen  Catherine, 


292  A   CHILD'S   HISTOEY   OF   ENGLAND. 

and  to  marry  Anne  Bole}-n  without  more  ado,  the  King  made 
Cranmer  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  and  directed  Queen 
Catherine  to  leave  the  Court.  She  obej'ed  ;  but  replied  that 
wherever  she  went,  she  was  Queen  of  England  still,  and 
would  remain  so,  to  the  last.  The  King  then  married  Anne 
Boleyn  privately ;  and  the  new  Archbishop  of  Canterbury, 
within  half  a  year,  declared  his  marriage  with  Queen  Cathe- 
rine void,  and  crowned  Anne  Boleyn  Queen. 

She  might  have  known  that  no  good  could  ever  come  from 
such  wrong,  and  that  the  corpulent  brute  who  had  been  so 
faithless  and  so  cruel  to  his  first  wife,  could  be  more  faithless 
and  more  cruel  to  his  second.  She  might  have  known  that, 
even  when  he  was  in  love  with  her,  he  had  been  a  mean  and 
selfish  coward,  running  away,  like  a  frightened  cur,  from  her 
societ}-  and  her  house,  when  a  dangerous  sickness  broke  out 
in  it,  and  when  she  might  easily  have  taken  it  and  died,  as 
several  of  the  household  did.  But.  Anne  Bole}'n  arrived  at 
all  this  knowledge  too  late,  and  bought  it  at  a  dear  price. 
Her  bad  marriage  with  a  worse  man  came  to  its  natural  end. 
Its  natural  end  was  not,  as  we  shall  too  soon  see,  a  natural 
death  for  her. 


HENRY  THE  EIGHTH.  293 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

ENGLAND    UNDER    HENRY    THE    EIGHTH. 

PAET  THE  SECOND. 

THE  Pope  was  thrown  into  a  very  angry  state  of  mind 
when  he  heard  of  the  King's  marriage,  and  fumed  exceed- 
ingly. Many  of  the  English  monks  and  friars,  seeing  that 
their  order  was  in  danger,  did  the  same  ;  some  even  declaimed 
against  the  King  in  church  before  his  face,  and  were  not  to 
be  stopped  until  he  himself  roared  out  "Silence!"  The 
King,  not  much  the  worse  for  this,  took  it  pretty  quietly ; 
and  was  very  glad  when  his  Queen  gave  birth  to  a  daughter, 
who  was  christened  ELIZABETH,  and  declared  Princess  of 
Wales  as  her  sister  Mary  had  already  been. 

One  of  the  most  atrocious  features  of  this  reign  was  that 
Henry  the  Eighth  was  alwa3's  trimming  between  the  reformed 
religion  and  the  unreformed  one ;  so  that  the  more  he  quar- 
relled with  the  Pope,  the  more  of  his  own  subjects  he  roasted 
alive  for  not  holding  the  Pope's  opinions.  Thus,  an  unfortu- 
nate student  named  John  Frith,  and  a  poor  simple  tailor 
named  Andrew  Hewet  who  loved  him  very  much,  and  said 
that  whatever  John  Frith  believed  he  believed,  were  burnt 
in  Smithfield  —  to  show  what  a  capital  Christian  the  King 
was. 

But,  these  were  speedily  followed  by  two  much  greater 
victims,  Sir  Thomas  More,  and  John  Fisher,  the  Bishop  of 
Rochester.  The  latter,  who  was  a  good  and  amiable  old 
man,  had  committed  no  greater  offence  than  believing  in 
Elizabeth  Barton,  called  the  Maid  of  Kent  —  another  of  those 


294  A   CHILD'S   HISTOKY   OF   ENGLAND. 

ridiculous  women  who  pretended  to  be  inspired,  and  to  make 
all  sorts  of  heavenly  revelations,  though  they  indeed  uttered 
nothing  but  evil  nonsense.  For  this  offence  —  as  it  was  pre- 
tended, but  really  for  denying  the  King  to  be  the  supreme 
Head  of  the  Church  —  he  got  into  trouble,  and  was  put  in 
prison ;  but,  even  then,  he  might  have  been  suffered  to  die 
naturally  (short  work  having  been  made  of  executing  the 
Kentish  Maid  and  her  principal  followers),  but  that  the  Pope, 
to  spite  the  King,  resolved  to  make  him  a  cardinal.  Upon 
that  the  King  made  a  ferocious  joke  to  the  effect  that  the 
Pope  might  send  Fisher  a  red  hat  —  which  is  the  way  they 
make  a  cardinal  —  but  he  should  have  no  head  on  which  to 
wear  it ;  and  he  was  tried  with  all  unfairness  and  injustice, 
and  sentenced  to  death.  He  died  like  a  noble  and  virtuous 
old  man,  and  left  a  worthy  name  behind  him.  The  King 
supposed,  I  dare  say,  that  Sir  Thomas  More  would  be  fright- 
ened b}'  this  example ;  but,  as  he  was  not  to  be  easily  ter- 
rified, and,  thoroughl}'  believing  in  the  Pope,  had  made  up 
his  mind  that  the  King  was  not  the  rightful  Head  of  the 
Church,  he  positively  refused  to  say  that  he  was.  For  this 
crime  he  too  was  tried  and  sentenced,  after  having  been  in 
prison  a  whole  year.  When  he  was  doomed  to  death,  and 
came  away  from  his  trial  with  the  edge  of  the  executioner's 
axe  turned  towards  him  —  as  was  always  done  in  those  times 
when  a  state  prisoner  came  to  that  hopeless  pass — he  bore  it 
quite  serenely,  and  gave  his  blessing  to  his  son,  who  pressed 
through  the  crowd  in  Westminster  Hall  and  kneeled  down  to 
receive  it.  But,  when  he  got  to  the  Tower  Wharf  on  his 
way  back  to  his  prison,  and  his  favorite  daughter,  MARGARET 
ROPER,  a  ver\-  good  woman,  rushed  through  the  guards  again 
and  again,  to  kiss  him  and  to  weep  upon  his  neck,  he  was 
overcome  at  last.  He  soon  recovered,  and  never  more 
showed  an}'  feeling  but  cheerfulness  and  courage.  When  he 
was  going  up  the  steps  of  the  scaffold  to  his  death,  he  said 
jokingly  to  the  Lieutenant  of  the  Tower,  observing  that  they 
were  weak  and  shook  beneath  his  tread,  "I  pray  you,  mas- 


HENRY  THE   EIGHTH.  295 

ter  Lieutenant,  see  me  safe  up  ;  and,  for  my  coming  down,  1 
can  shift  for  myself."  Also  he  said  to  the  executioner,  aftei 
he  had  laid  his  head  upon  the  block,  "  Let  me  put  my  beard 
out  of  the  way ;  for  that,  at  least,  has  never  committed  any 
treason."  Then  his  head  was  struck  off  at  a  blow.  These 
two  executions  were  worthy  of  King  Henry  the  Eighth.  Sir 
Thomas  More  was  one  of  the  most  virtuous  men  in  his  do- 
minions, and  the  Bishop  was  one  of  his  oldest  and  truest 
friends.  But  to  be  a  friend  of  that  fellow  was  almost  as 
dangerous  as  to  be  his  wife. 

When  the  news  of  these  two  murders  got  to  Rome,  the 
Pope  raged  against  the  murderer  more  than  ever  Pope  raged 
since  the  world  began,  and  prepared  a  Bull,  ordering  his  sub- 
jects to  take  arms  against  him  and  dethrone  him.  The  King 
took  all  possible  precautions  to  keep  that  document  out  of 
his  dominions,  and  set  to  work  in  return  to  suppress  a  great 
number  of  the  English  monasteries  and  abbe}Ts. 

This  destruction  was  begun  by  a  body  of  commissioners, 
of  whom  Cromwell  (whom  the  King  had  taken  into  great 
favor)  was  the  head ;  and  was  carried  on  through  some  few 
3'ears  to  its  entire  completion.  There  is  no  doubt  that  many 
of  these  religious  establishments  were  religious  in  nothing  but 
in  name,  and  were  crammed  with  lazy,  indolent,  and  sensual 
monks.  There  is  no  doubt  that  they  imposed  upon  the  peo- 
ple in  every  possible  way ;  that  they  had  images  moved  by 
wires,  which  they  pretended  were  miraculously  moved  by 
Heaven  ;  that  they  had  among  them  a  whole  tun  measure 
full  of  teeth,  all  purporting  to  have  come  out  of  the  head  of 
one  saint,  who  must  indeed  have  been  a  very  extraordinary 
person  with  that  enormous  allowance  of  grinders  ;  that  they 
had  bits  of  coal  which  they  said  had  fried  Saint  Lawrence, 
and  bits  of  toe-nails  which  they  said  belonged  to  other 
famous  saints ;  penknives,  and  boots,  and  girdles,  which 
they  said  belonged  to  others  ;  and  that  all  these  bits  of  rub- 
bish were  called  Relics,  and  adored  by  the  ignorant  people. 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  there  is  no  doubt  either,  that  the 


296  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

King's  officers  and  men  punished  the  good  monks  with  the 
bad ;  did  great  injustice  ;  demolished  many  beautiful  things 
and  many  valuable  libraries  ;  destined  numbers  of  paintings, 
stained  glass  windows,  fine  pavements,  and  carvings  ;  and 
that  the  whole  court  were  ravenousl}-  greed}'  and  rapacious 
for  the  division  of  this  great  spoil  among  them.  The  King 
seems  to  have  grown  almost  mad  in  the  ardor  of  this  pursuit ; 
for  he  declared  Thomas  a  Becket  a  traitor,  though  he  had 
been  dead  so  many  years,  and  had  his  body  dug  up  out  of 
his  grave.  He  must  have  been  as  miraculous  as  the  monks 
pretended,  if  the}T  had  told  the  truth,  for  he  was  found  with 
one  head  on  his  shoulders,  and  they  had  shown  another  as 
his  undoubted  and  genuine  head  ever  since  his  death ;  it 
had  brought  them  vast  sums  of  money,  too.  The  gold  and 
jewels  on  his  shrine  filled  two  great  chests,  and  eight  men 
tottered  as  they  carried  them  away.  How  rich  the  monas- 
teries were  yon  may  infer  from  the  fact  that,  when  they 
were  all  suppressed,  one  hundred  and  thirty  thousand  pounds 
a  year  —  in  those  days  an  immense  sum  —  came  to  the 
Crown. 

These  things  were  not  done  without  causing  great  discon- 
tent among  the  people.  The  monks  had  been  good  landlords 
and  hospitable  entertainers  of  all  travellers,  and  had  been 
accustomed  to  give  away  a  great  deal  of  corn,  and  fruit,  and 
meat,  and  other  things.  In  those  days  it  was  difficult  to 
change  goods  into  money,  in  consequence  of  the  roads  being 
very  few  and  very  bad,  and  the  carts  and  wagons  of  the  worst 
description ;  and  they  must  either  have  given  away  some  of 
the  good  things  they  possessed  in  enormous  quantities,  or 
have  suffered  them  to  spoil  and  moulder.  So,  many  of  the 
people  missed  what  it  was  more  agreeable  to  get  idly  than  to 
work  for ;  and  the  monks  who  were  driven  out  of  their  homes 
and  wandered  about  encouraged  their  discontent ;  and  there 
were,  consequently,  great  risings  in  Lincolnshire  and  York- 
shire. These  were  put  down  by  terrific  executions,  from 
which  the  monks  themselves  did  not  escape,  and  the  King 


HENRY  THE   EIGHTH.  297 

went  on  grunting  and  growling  in  his  own  fat  way,  like  a 
Royal  pig. 

I  have  told  all  this  story  of  the  religious  houses  at  one 
time,  to  make  it  plainer,  and  to  get  back  to  the  King's 
domestic  affairs. 

The  unfortunate  Queen  Catherine  was  by  this  time  dead ; 
and  the  King  was  by  this  time  as  tired  of  his  second  Queen 
as  he  had  been  of  his  first.  As  he  had  fallen  in  love  with 
Anne  when  she  was  in  the  service  of  Catherine,  so  he  now 
fell  in  love  with  another  lady  in  the  service  of  Anne.  See 
how  wicked  deeds  are  punished,  and  how  bitterty  and  self- 
reproachfully  the  Queen  must  now  have  thought  of  her  own 
rise  to  the  throne !  The  new  fancy  was  a  LADY  JANE  SEY- 
MOUR ;  and  the  King  no  sooner  set  his  mind  on  her,  than  he 
resolved  to  have  Anne  Boleyn's  head.  So,  he  brought  a 
number  of  charges  against  Anne,  accusing  her  of  dreadful 
crimes  which  she  had  never  committed,  and  implicating  in 
them  her  own  brother  and  certain  gentlemen  in  her  service : 
among  whom  one  Norris,  and  Mark  Smeaton  a  musician,  are 
best  remembered.  As  the  lords  and  councillors  were  as 
afraid  of  the  King  and  as  subservient  to  him  as  the  meanest 
peasant  in  England  was,  they  brought  in  Anne  Boleyn  guilty, 
and  the  other  unfortunate  persons  accused  with  her,  guilty 
too.  Those  gentlemen  died  like  men,  with  the  exception  of 
Smeaton,  who  had  been  tempted  by  the  King  into  telling 
lies,  which  he  called  confessions,  and  who  had  expected  to 
be  pardoned ;  but  who,  I  am  very  glad  to  say,  was  not. 
There  was  then  only  the  Queen  to  dispose  of.  She  had  been 
surrounded  in  the  Tower  with  women  spies  ;  had  been  mon- 
strously persecuted  and  foully  slandered ;  and  had  received 
no  justice.  But  her  spirit  rose  with  her  afflictions ;  and, 
after  having  in  vain  tried  to  soften  the  King  by  writing  an 
affecting  letter  to  him  which  still  exists,  "  from  her  doleful 
prison  in  the  Tower,"  she  resigned  herself  to  death.  She 
said  to  those  about  her,  very  cheerfully,  that  she  had  heard 
say  the  executioner  was  a  good  one,  and  that  she  had  a  little 


298  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

neck  (she  laughed  and  clasped  it  with  her  hands  as  she  said 
that),  and  would  soon  be  out  of  her  pain.  And  she  was 
soon  out  of  her  pain,  poor  creature,  on  the  Green  inside  the 
Tower,  and  her  body  was  flung  into  an  old  box  and  put  away 
in  the  ground  under  the  chapel. 

There  is  a  story  that  the  King  sat  in  his  palace  listening 
very  anxiously  for  the  sound  of  the  cannon  which  was  to 
announce  this  new  murder ;  and  that,  when  he  heard  it  come 
booming  on  the  air,  he  rose  up  in  great  spirits  and  ordered 
out  his  dogs  to  go  a-hunting.  He  was  bad  enough  to  do  it ; 
but  whether  he  did  it  or  not,  it  is  certain  that  he  married 
Jane  Seymour  the  very  next  day. 

I  have  not  much  pleasure  in  recording  that  she  lived  just 
long  enough  to  give  birth  to  a  son  who  was  christened 
EDWARD,  and  then  to  die  of  a  fever :  for,  I  cannot  but  think 
that  any  woman  who  married  such  a  ruffian,  and  knew  what 
innocent  blood  was  on  his  hands,  deserved  the  axe  that 
would  assuredly  have  fallen  on  the  neck  of  Jane  Seymour, 
if  she  had  lived  much  longer. 

Cranmer  had  done  what  he  could  to  save  some  of  the 
Church  property  for  purposes  of  religion  and  education  ;  but, 
the  great  families  had  been  so  hungry  to  get  hold  of  it,  that 
very  little  could  be  rescued  for  such  objects.  Even  MILES 
COVERDALE,  who  did  the  people  the  inestimable  service  of 
translating  the  Bible  into  English  (which  the  unreformed 
religion  never  permitted  to  be  done),  was  left  in  poverty 
while  the  great  families  clutched  the  Church  lands  and 
money.  The  people  had  been  told  that  when  the  Crown 
came  into  possession  of  these  funds,  it  would  not  be  neces- 
sary to  tax  them  ;  but  they  were  taxed  afresh  directly  after- 
wards. It  was  fortunate  for  them,  indeed,  that  so  many 
nobles  were  so  greedy  for  this  wealth  ;  since,  if  it  had  re- 
mained with  the  Crown,  there  might  have  been  no  end  to 
tyranny  for  hundreds  of  years.  One  of  the  most  active 
writers  on  the  Church's  side  against  the  King  was  a  member 
of  his  own  family  —  a  sort  of  distant  cousin,  REGINALD  POLE 


HENKY  THE   EIGHTH.  209 

by  name  —  who  attacked  him  in  the  most  violent  manner 
(though  he  received  a  pension  from  him  all  the  time),  nnd 
fought  for  the  Church  with  his  pen,  da}'  and  night.  As  he 
was  beyond  the  King's  reach  —  being  in  Italy  —  the  King 
politely  invited  him  over  to  discuss  the  subject ;  but  he, 
knowing  better  than  to  come,  and  wisely  staying  where  he 
was,  the  King's  rage  fell  upon  his  brother  Lord  Montague, 
the  Marquis  of  Exeter,  and  some  other  gentlemen :  who 
were  tried  for  high  treason  in  corresponding  with  him  and 
aiding  him  —  which  they  probably  did  —  and  were  all  exe- 
cuted. The  Pope  made  Reginald  Pole  a  cardinal ;  but,  so 
much  against  his  will,  that  it  is  thought  he  even  aspired  in 
his  own  mind  to  the  vacant  throne  of  England,  and  had 
hopes  of  manying  the  Princess  Mary.  His  being  made  a 
high  priest,  however,  put  an  end  to  all  that.  His  mother, 
the  venerable  Countess  of  Salisbury  —  who  was,  unfortu- 
nately for  herself,  within  the  tyrant's  reach  —  was  the  last 
of  his  relatives  on  whom  his  wrath  fell.  When  she  was  told 
to  lay  her  gray  head  upon  the  block,  she  answered  the 
executioner,  "  No!  My  head  never  committed  treason,  and 
if  }rou  want  it,  yon  shall  seize  it."  So,  she  ran  round  and 
round  the  scaffold  with  the  executioner  striking  at  her,  and 
her  gray  hair  bedabbled  with  blood  ;  and  even  when  they  held 
her  down  upon  the  block  she  moved  her  head  about  to  the 
last,  resolved  to  be  no  party  to  her  own  barbarous  murder. 
All  this  the  people  bore,  as  they  had  borne  everything  else. 

Indeed  they  bore  much  more  ;  for  the  slow  fires  of  Smith- 
field  were  continually  burning,  and  people  were  constantly 
being  roasted  to  death  —  still  to  show  what  a  good  Christian 
the  King  was.  He  defied  the  Pope  and  his  Bull,  which  was 
now  issued,  and  had  come  into  England ;  but  he  burned 
innumerable  people  whose  only  offence  was  that  they  differed 
from  the  Pope's  religious  opinions.  There  was  a  wretched 
man  named  LAMBERT,  among  others,  who  was  tried  for  this 
before  the  King,  and  with  whom  six  bishops  argued  one 
after  another.  When  he  was  quite  exhausted  (as  well  he 


300  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

might  be,  after  six  bishops),  he  threw  himself  on  the  King's 
mercy ;  but  the  King  blustered  out  that  he  had  no  mercy ; 
for  heretics.  So,  he  too  fed  the  fire. 

All  this  the  people  bore,  and  more  than  all  this  yet.  The 
national  spirit  seems  to  have  been  banished  from  the  kingdom 
at  this  time.  The  very  people  who  were  executed  for  treason, 
the  very  wives  and  friends  of  the  "  bluff"  King,  spoke  of  him 
on  the  scaffold  as  a  good  prince,  and  a  gentle  prince  — just  as 
serfs  in  similar  circumstances  have  been  known  to  do,  under 
the  Sultans  and  Bashaws  of  the  East,  or  under  the  fierce  old 
tyrants  of  Russia,  who  poured  boiling  and  freezing  water  on 
them  alternately,  until  they  died.  The  Parliament  were  as 
bad  as  the  rest,  and  gave  the  King  whatever  he  wanted  ;  among 
other  vile  accommodations,  they  gave  him  new  powers  of 
murdering,  at  his  will  and  pleasure,  any  one  whom  he  might 
choose  to  call  a  traitor.  But  the  worst  measure  the}-  passed 
was  an  Act  of  Six  Articles,  commonly  called  at  the  time 
"the  whip  with  six  strings  ;"  which  punished  offences 
against  the  Pope's  opinions,  without  mercy,  and  enforced  the 
very  worst  parts  of  the  monkish  religion.  Cranmer  would 
have  modified  it,  if  he  could ;  but,  being  overborne  by  the 
Romish  part}r,  had  not  the  power.  As  one  of  the  articles 
declared  that  priests  should  not  marry,  and  as  he  was  mar- 
ried himself,  he  sent  his  wife  and  children  into  Germany, 
and  began  to  tremble  at  his  danger ;  none  the  less  because 
he  was,  and  had  long  been,  the  King's  friend.  This  whip  of 
six  strings  was  made  under  the  King's  own  eye.  It  should 
never  be  forgotten  of  him  how  cruelly  he  supported  the  worst 
of  the  Popish  doctrines  when  there  was  nothing  to  be  got 
by  opposing  them. 

This  amiable  monarch  now  thought  of  taking  another  wife. 
He  proposed  to  the  French  King  to  have  some  of  the  ladies 
of  the  French  Court  exhibited  before  him,  that  he  might  make 
his  Ro}ral  choice ;  but  the  French  King  answered  that  he 
would  rather  not  have  his  ladies  trotted  out  to  be  shown  like 
horses  at  a  fair.  He  proposed  to  the  Duchess  Dowager  of 


HENRY  THE   EIGHTH.  301 

Milan,  who  replied  that  she  might  have  thought  of  such  a 
match  if  she  had  had  two  heads ;  but,  that  only  owning  one, 
she  must  beg  to  keep  it  safe.  At  last  Cromwell  represented 
that  there  was  a  Protestant  Princess  in  Germany  —  those  who 
held  the  reformed  religion  were  called  Protestants,  because 
their  leaders  had  Protested  against  the  abuses  and  impositions 
of  the  unreformed  Church  —  named  ANNE  OF  CLEVES,  who 
was  beautiful,  and  would  answer  the  purpose  admirably. 
The  King  said  was  she  a  large  woman,  because  he  must  have 
a  fat  wife?  "  O  yes,"  said  Cromwell,  "  she  was  very  large, 
just  the  thing."  On  hearing  this,  the  King  sent  over  his 
famous  painter,  Hans  Holbein,  to  take  her  portrait.  Huns 
made  her  out  to  be  so  good-looking  that  the  King  was  satis- 
fied, and  the  marriage  was  arranged.  But,  whether  anybody 
had  paid  Hans  to  touch  up  the  picture ;  or  whether  Hans,  like 
one  or  two  other  painters,  flattered  a  princess  in  the  ordinary 
way  of  business,  I  cannot  say :  all  I  know  is,  that  when 
Anne  came  over  and  the  King  went  to  Rochester  to  meet  her, 
and  first  saw  her  without  her  seeing  him,  he  swore  she  was 
"  a  great  Flanders  mare,"  and  said  he  would  never  many 
her.  Being  obliged  to  do  it  now  matters  had  gone  so  far,  he 
would  not  give  her  the  presents  he  had  prepared,  and  would 
never  notice  her.  He  never  forgave  Cromwell  his  part  in  the 
affair.  His  downfall  dates  from  that  time. 

It  was  quickened  by  his  enemies  in  the  interests  of  the  un- 
reformed religion,  putting  in  the  King's  way,  at  a  state  din- 
ner, a  niece  of  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  CATHARINE  HOWARD,  a 
young  lady  of  fascinating  manners,  though  small  in  stature 
and  not  particularly  beautiful.  Falling  in  love  with  her  on 
the  spot,  the  King  soon  divorced  Anne  of  Cleves  after 
making  her  the  subject  of  much  brutal  talk,  on  pretence  that 
she  had  been  previously  betrothed  to  some  one  else  —  which 
would  never  do  for  one  of  his  dignity  —  and  married  Cathe- 
rine. It  is  probable  that  on  his  wedding-day,  of  all  days  in 
the  year,  he  sent  his  faithful  Cromwell  to  the  scaffold  and  had 
his  head  struck  off.  He  further  celebrated  the  occasion  by 


302  A   CHILD'S   IIISTOltY   OF   ENGLAND. 

burning  at  one  time,  and  causing  to  be  drawn  to  the  fire  on 
the  same  hurdles,  some  Protestant  prisoners  for  denying  the 
Pope's  doctrines,  and  some  Roman  Catholic  prisoners  for 
denying  his  own  supremacy.  Still  the  people  bore  it,  and 
not  a  gentleman  in  England  raised  his  hand. 

But,  by  a  just  retribution,  it  soon  came  out  that  Catherine 
Howard,  before  her  marriage,  had  been  really  guilt}'  of  such 
crimes  as  the  King  had  falsely  attributed  to  his  second  wife 
Anne  Boleyn ;  so,  again  the  dreadful  axe  made  the  King  a 
widower,  and  this  Queen  passed  away  as  so  man}-  in  that 
reign  had  passed  awa}T  before  her.  As  an  appropriate  pur- 
suit under  the  circumstances,  Henry  then  applied  himself  to 
superintending  the  composition  of  a  religious  book  called  "  A 
necessary  doctrine  for  any  Christian  Man."  He  must  have  been 
a  little  confused  in  his  mind,  I  think,  at  about  this  period  ; 
for  he  was  so  false  to  himself  as  to  be  true  to  some  one  :  that 
some  one  being  Cranmer,  whom  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  and 
others  of  his  enemies  tried  to  ruin;  but  to  whom  the  King 
was  steadfast,  and  to  whom  he  one  night  gave  his  ring, 
charging  him  when  he  should  find  himself,  next  day,  accused 
of  treason,  to  show  it  to  the  council  board.  This  Cranmer 
did  to  the  confusion  of  his  enemies.  I  suppose  the  King 
thought  he  might  want  him  a  little  longer. 

He  married  yet  once  more.  Yes,  strange  to  sa}-,  he  found 
in  England  another  woman  who  would  become  his  wife,  and 
she  was  CATHERINE  PARR,  widow  of  Lord  Latimer.  She 
leaned  towards  the  reformed  religion  ;  and  it  is  some  comfort 
to  know,  that  she  tormented  the  King  considerably  by  argu- 
ing a  variety  of  doctrinal  points  with  him  on  all  possible 
occasions.  She  had  very  nearly  done  this  to  her  own  de- 
struction. After  one  of  these  conversations  the  King  in  a 
ver}r  black  mood  actually  instructed  GARDINER,  one  of  his 
Bishops  who  favored  the  Popish  opinions,  to  draw  a  bill  of 
accusation  against  her,  which  would  have  inevitably  brought 
her  to  the  scaffold  where  her  predecessors  had  died,  but  that 
one  of  her  friends  picked  up  the  paper  of  instructions  which 


DEATH  OP   ANNE  ASKEW. 


HENEY   THE   EIGHTH.  303 

had  been  dropped  in  the  palace,  and  gave  her  timely  notice. 
She  fell  ill  with  terror ;  but  managed  the  King  so  well  when 
he  came  to  entrap  her  into  further  statements  —  by  saying 
that  she  had  only  spoken  on  such  points  to  divert  his  mind 
and  to  get  some  information  from  his  extraordinary  wisdom  — • 
that  he  gave  her  a  kiss  and  called  her  his  sweetheart.  And, 
when  the  Chancellor  came  next  day  actually  to  take  her  to 
the  Tower,  the  King  sent  him  about  his  business,  and  honored 
him  with  the  epithets  of  a  beast,  a  knave,  and  a  fool.  So 
near  was  Catherine  Parr  to  the  block,  and  so  narrow  was  her 
escape ! 

There  was  war  with  Scotland  in  this  reign,  and  a  short 
clumsy  war  with  France  for  favoring  Scotland ;  but,  the 
events  at  home  were  so  dreadful,  and  leave  such  an  enduring 
stain  on  the  country,  that  I  need  say  no  more  of  what  hap- 
pened abroad. 

A  few  more  horrors,  and  this  reign  is  over.  There  was  a 
lady,  ANNE  ASKEW,  in  Lincolnshire,  who  inclined  to  the 
Protestant  opinions,  and  whose  husband  being  a  fierce  Catho- 
lic, turned  her  out  of  his  house.  She  came  to  London,  and 
was  considered  as  offending  against  the  six  articles,  and  was 
taken  to  the  Tower,  and  put  upon  the  rack  —  probably  be- 
cause it  was  hoped  that  she  might,  in  her  agony,  criminate 
some  obnoxious  persons  ;  if  falsely,  so  much  the  better.  She 
was  tortured  without  uttering  a  cry,  until  the  Lieutenant  of 
the  Tower  would  suffer  his  men  to  torture  her  no  more  ;  and 
then  two  priests  who  were  present  actually  pulled  off  their 
robes,  and  turned  the  wheels  of  the  rack  with  their  own  hands, 
so  rending  and  twisting  and  breaking  her  that  she  was  after- 
wards carried  to  the  fire  in  a  chair.  She  was  burned  with 
three  others,  a  gentleman,  a  clergyman,  and  a  tailor ;  and  so 
the  world  went  on. 

Either  the  King  became  afraid  of  the  power  of  the  Duke  of 
Norfolk,  and  his  son  the  Earl  of  Surrey,  or  they  gave  him 
some  offence,  but  he  resolved  to  pull  them  down,  to  follow  all 
the  rest  who  were  gone.  The  sou  was  tried  first  —  of  course 


304  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

for  nothing  —  and  defended  himself  bravely ;  but  of  course 
he  was  found  guilty,  and  of  course  he  was  executed.  Then 
his  father  was  laid  hold  of,  and  left  for  death  too. 

But  the  King  himself  was  left  for  death  by  a  Greater  King, 
and  the  earth  was  to  be  rid  of  him  at  last.  He  was  now  a 
swollen,  hideous  spectacle,  with  a  great  hole  in  his  leg,  and 
so  odious  to  every  sense  that  it  was  dreadful  to  approach  him. 
When  he  was  found  to  be  d3ring,  Cranmer  was  sent  for  from 
his  palace  at  Croydon,  and  came  with  all  speed,  but  found 
him  speechless.  Happily,  in  that  hour  he  perished.  He  was 
in  the  fifty-sixth  year  of  his  age,  and  the  thirty-eighth  of  his 
reign. 

Henry  the  Eighth  has  been  favored  by  some  Protestant 
writers,  because  the  Reformation  was  achieved  in  his  time. 
But  the  mighty  merit  of  it  lies  with  other  men  and  not  with 
him  ;  and  it  can  be  rendered  none  the  worse  by  this  monster's 
crimes,  and  none  the  better  by  any  defence  of  them.  The 
plain  truth  is,  that  he  was  a  most  intolerable  ruffian,  a  dis- 
grace to  human  nature,  and  a  blot  of  blood  and  grease  upon 
the  history  of  England. 


EDWAKD   THE  SIXTH.  305 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

ENGLAND    UNDER   EDWARD   1HK   SIXTH. 

HENRY  THE  EIGHTH  had  made  a  will,  appointing  a  council 
of  sixteen  to  govern  the  kingdom  for  his  son  while  he  was 
under  age  (he  was  now  only,  ten  years  old),  and  another 
council  of  twelve  to  help  them.  The  most  powerful  of  the 
first  council  was  the  EARL  OF  HERTFORD,  the  young  King's 
uncle,  who  lost  no  time  in  bringing  his  nephew  with  great 
.state  up  to  Enfield,  and  thence  to  the  Tower.  It  was  con- 
sidered at  the  time  a  striking  proof  of  virtue  in  the  young 
King  that  he  was  sorry  for  his  father's  death ;  but,  as  com- 
mon subjects  have  that  virtue  too  sometimes,  we  will  say  no 
more  about  it. 

There  was  a  curious  part  of  the  late  King's  will,  requiring 
his  executors  to  fulfil  whatever  promises  he  had  made.  Some 
of  the  court  wondering  what  these  might  be,  the  Earl  of 
Hertford  and  the  other  noblemen  interested,  said  that  they 
were  promises  to  advance  and  enrich  them.  So,  the  Earl  of 
Hertford  made  himself  DUKE  OF  SOMERSET,  and  made  his 
brother  EDWARD  SEYMOUR  a  baron ;  and  there  were  various 
similar  promotions,  all  very  agreeable  to  the  parties  con- 
cerned, and  very  dutiful,  no  doubt,  to  the  late  King's  memory. 
To  be  more  dutiful  still,  they  made  themselves  rich  out  of 
the  Church  lands,  and  were  very  comfortable.  The  new 
Duke  of  Somerset  caused  himself  to  be  declared  PROTECTOR 
of  the  kingdom,  and  was,  indeed,  the  King. 

As  young  Edward  the  Sixth  had  been  brought  up  in  the 
principles  of  the  Protestant  religion,  everybody  knew  that 
they  would  be  maintained.  But  Cranrner,  to  whom  they  were 

20 


306  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

chiefly  entrusted,  advanced  them  steadily  and  temperately. 
Man}-  superstitious  and  ridiculous  practices  were  stopped ; 
but  practices  which  were  harmless  were  not  interfered 
with. 

The  Duke  of  Somerset,  the  Protector,  was  anxious  to  have 
the  young  King  engaged  in  marriage  to  the  young  Queen  of 
Scotland,  in  order  to  prevent  that  princess  from  making  an 
alliance  with  any  foreign  power ;  but,  as  a  large  party  in 
Scotland  were  unfavorable  to  this  plan,  he  invaded  that  coun- 
try. His  excuse  for  doing  so  was,  that  the  Border  men  — 
that  is,  the  Scotch  who  lived  in  that  part  of  the  country  where 
England  and  Scotland  joined  —  troubled  the  English  very 
much.  But  there  were  two  sides  to  this  question ;  for  the 
English  Border  men  troubled  the  Scotch  too  ;  and,  through 
many  long  years,  there  were  perpetual  border  quarrels  which 
gave  rise  to  numbers  of  old  tales  and  songs.  However,  the 
Protector  invaded  Scotland  ;  and  AKRAN,  the  Scottish  Regent, 
with  an  arm\r  twice  as  large  as  his,  advanced  to  meet  him. 
They  encountered  on  the  banks  of  the  river  Esk,  within  a  few 
miles  of  Edinburgh;  and  there,  after  a  little,  skirmish,  the 
Protector  made  such  moderate  proposals,  in  offering  to  retire 
if  the  Scotch  would  only  engage  not  to  many  their  princess 
to  any  foreign  prince,  that  the  Regent  thought  the  English 
were  afraid.  But  in  this  he  made  a  horrible  mistake  ;  for  the 
English  soldiers  on  land,  and  the  English  sailors  on  the 
water,  so  set  upon  the  Scotch,  that  they  broke  and  fled,  and 
more  than  ten  thousand  of  them  were  killed.  It  was  a  dread- 
ful battle,  for  the  fugitives  were  slain  without  mercy.  The 
ground  for  four  miles,  all  the  way  to  Edinburgh,  was  strewn 
with  dead  men,  and  with  arms,  and  legs,  and  heads.  Some 
hid  themselves  in  streams  and  were  drowned ;  some  threw 
away  their  armor  and  were  killed  running,  almost  naked ; 
but  in  this  battle  of  Pinkey  the  English  lost  only  two  or  three 
hundred  men.  They  were  much  better  clothed  than  the 
Scotch  ;  at  the  povert}-  of  whose  appearance  and  country  they 
were  exceedingly  astonished. 


EDWAED   THE   SIXTH.  307 

A  Parliament  was  called  when  Somerset  came  back,  and  it 
repealed  the  whip  with  six  strings,  and  did  one  or  two  other 
good  things  ;  though  it  unhappily  retained  the  punishment  of 
burning  for  those  people  who  did  not  make  believe  to  believe, 
in  all  religious  matters,  what  the  Government  had  declared 
that  they  must  and  should  believe.  It  also  made  a  foolish 
law  (meant  to  put  down  beggars) ,  that  any  man  who  lived 
idly  and  loitered  about  for  three  days  together,  should  be 
burned  with  a  hot  iron,  made  a  slave,  and  wear  an  iron  fetter. 
But  this  savage  absurdity  soon  came  to  an  end,  and  went  the 
way  of  a  great  many  other  foolish  laws. 

The  Protector  was  now  so  proud  that  he  sat  in  Parliament 
before  all  the  nobles,  on  the  right  hand  of  the  throne.  Many 
other  noblemen,  who  only  wanted  to  be  as  proud  if  they  could 
get  a  chance,  became  his  enemies  of  course ;  and  it  is  sup- 
posed that  he  came  back  suddenly  from  Scotland  because  he 
had  received  news  that  his  brother,  LORD  SEYMOUR,  was  be- 
coming dangerous  to  him.  This  lord  was  now  High  Admiral 
of  England  ;  a  very  handsome  man,  and  a  great  favorite  with 
the  Court  ladies  —  even  with  the  3'oung  Princess  Elizabeth, 
who  romped  with  him  a  little  more  than  young  princesses  in 
these  times  do  with  any  one.  He  had  married  Catherine 
Parr,  the  late  King's  widow,  who  was  now  dead  ;  and,  to 
strengthen  his  power,  he  secretly  supplied  the  young  King 
with  money.  He  may  even  have  engaged  with  some  of  his 
brother's  enemies  in  a  plot  to  carry  the  bo}T  off.  On  these 
and  other  accusations,  at  any  rate,  he  was  confined  in  the 
Tower,  impeached,  and  found  guilty ;  his  own  brother's  name 
being  —  unnatural  and  sad  to  tell  —  the  first  signed  to  the 
warrant  for  his  execution.  He  was  executed  on  Tower  Hill, 
and  died  denying  his  treason.  One  of  his  last  proceedings  in 
this  world  was  to  write  two  letters,  one  to  the  Princess  Eliz- 
abeth, and  one  to  the  Princess  Mary,  which  a  servant  of  his 
took  charge  of,  and  concealed  in  his  shoe.  These  letters  are 
supposed  to  have  urged  them  against  his  brother,  and  to  re- 
venge Ins  death.  What  they  truly  contained  is  not  known ; 


308  A   CHILD'S  HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

but  there  is  no  doubt  that  he  had,  at  one  time,  obtained  great 
influence  over  the  Princess  Elizabeth. 

All  this  while,  the  Protestant  religion  was  making  progress. 
The  images  which  the  people  had  gradually  come  to  worship 
were  removed  from  the  churches ;  the  people  «were  informed 
that  they  need  not  confess  themselves  to  priests  unless  they 
chose ;  a  common  prayer-book  was  drawn  up  in  the  English 
language,  which  all  could  understand  ;  and  many  other  im- 
provements were  made  ;  still  moderately.  For  Cranmer  was 
a  very  moderate  man,  and  even  restrained  the  Protestant 
clergy  from  violently  abusing  the  unreformed  religion  —  as 
the}'  very  often  did,  and  which  was  not  a  good  example. 
But  the  people  were  at  this  time  in  great  distress.  The  ra- 
pacious nobility  who  had  come  into  possession  of  the  Church 
lands,  were  very  bad  landlords.  They  enclosed  great  quan- 
tities of  ground  for  the  feeding  of  sheep,  which  was  then  more 
profitable  than  the  growing  of  crops ;  and  this  increased  the 
general  distress.  So  the  people,  who  still  understood  little 
of  what  was  going  on  about  them,  and  still  readily  believed 
what  the  homeless  monks  told  them  —  many  of  whom  had 
been  their  good  friends  in  their  better  days  —  took  it  into 
their  heads  that  all  this  was  owing  to  the  reformed  religion, 
and  therefore  rose  in  many  parts  of  the  country. 

The  most  powerful  risings  were  in  Devonshire  and  Norfolk. 
In  Devonshire,  the  rebellion  was  so  strong  that  ten  thousand 
men  united  within  a  few  da}*s,  and  even  laid  siege  to  Exeter. 
But  LORD  RUSSELL,  coming  to  the  assistance  of  the  citizens 
who  defended  that  town,  defeated  the  rebels ;  and,  not  only 
hanged  the  Mayor  of  one  place,  but  hanged  the  vicar  of 
another  from  his  own  church  steeple.  What  with  hanging 
and  killing  by  the  sword,  four  thousand  of  the  rebels  are 
supposed  to  have  fallen  in  that  one  county.  In  Norfolk 
(where  the  rising  was  more  against  the  enclosure  of  open 
lands  than  against  the  reformed  religion) ,  the  popular  leader 
was  a  man  named  ROBERT  KET,  a  tanner  of  Wymondham. 
The  mob  were,  in  the  first  instance,  excited  against  the  tan- 


EDWARD   THE   SIXTH.  309 

nor  by  one  JOHN  FLOWERDEW,  a  gentleman  who  owed  him  a 
grudge  :  but  the  tanner  was  more  than  a  match  for  the  gentle- 
man, since  he  soon  got  the  people  on  his  side,  and  established 
himself  near  Norwich  with  quite  an  army.  There  was  a  large 
oak-tree  in  that  place,  on  a  spot  called  Household  Hill,  which 
Ket  named  the  Tree  of  Reformation  ;  and  under  its  green 
boughs,  he  and  his  men  sat,  in  the  midsummer  weather,  hold- 
ing courts  of  justice,  and  debating  affairs  of  state.  They 
were  even  impartial  enough  to  allow  some  rather  tiresome 
public  speakers  to  get  up  into  this  Tree  of  Reformation,  and 
point  out  their  errors  to  them,  in  long  discourses,  while  they 
lay  listening  (not  alwa3's  without  some  grumbling  and  growl- 
ing), in  the  shade  below.  At  last,  one  sunny  July  day,  a 
herald  appeared  below  the  tree,  and  proclaimed  Ket  and  all 
his  men  traitors,  unless  from  that  moment  they  dispersed  and 
went  home :  in  which  case  they  were  to  receive  a  pardon. 
But,  Ket  and  his  men  made  light  of  the  herald  and  became 
stronger  than  ever,  until  the  Earl  of  Warwick  went  after 
them  with  a  sufficient  force,  and  cut  them  all  to  pieces.  A 
few  were  hanged,  drawn,  and  quartered,  as  traitors,  and  their 
limbs  were  sent  into  various  country  places  to  be  a  terror  to 
the  people.  Nine  of  them  were  hanged  upon  nine  green 
branches  of  the  Oak  of  Reformation ;  and  so,  for  the  time, 
that  tree  may  be  said  to  have  withered  away. 

The  Protector,  though  a  haughty  man,  had  compassion  for 
the  real  distresses  of  the  common  people,  and  a  sincere  desire 
to  help  them.  But  he  was  too  proud  and  too  high  in  degree 
to  hold  even  their  favor  steadily ;  and  many  of  the  nobles 
always  envied  and  hated  him,  because  they  were  as  proud 
and  not  as  high  as  he.  He  was  at  this  time  building  a  great 
Palace  in  the  Strand :  to  get  the  stone  for  which  he  blew  up 
church  steeples  with  gunpowder,  and  pulled  down  bishops' 
houses  :  thus  making  himself  still  more  disliked.  At  length, 
his  principal  enemy,  the  Earl  of  Warwick  —  Dudley  by  name, 
and  the  son  of  that  Dudley  who  had  made  himself  so  odious 
with  Empson,  in  the  reign  of  Henry  the  Seventh — joined 


310  A   CHILD'S  HISTOEY   OF   ENGLAND. 

with  seven  other  members  of  the  Council  against  him,  forme* 
a  separate  Council ;  and,  becoming  stronger  in  a  few  daj-s, 
sent  him  to  the  Tower  under  twenty-nine  articles  of  accusa- 
tion. After  being  sentenced  by  the  Council  to  the  forfeiture 
of  all  his  offices  and  lands,  he  was  liberated  and  pardoned, 
on  making  a  veiy  humble  submission.  He  was  even  taken 
back  into  the  Council  again,  after  having  suffered  this  fall, 
and  married  his  daughter,  LADY  ANNE  SEYMOUR,  to  Warwick's 
eldest  son.  But  such  a  reconciliation  was  little  likely  to  last, 
and  did  not  outlive  a  j^ear.  Warwick,  having  got  himself 
made  Duke  of  Northumberland,  and  having  advanced  the 
more  important  of  his  friends,  then  finished  the  history  by 
causing  the  Duke  of  Somerset  and  his  friend  LORD  GREY,  and 
others,  to  be  arrested  for  treason,  in  having  conspired  to  seize 
and  dethrone  the  King.  They  were  also  accused  of  having 
intended  to  seize  the  new  Duke  of  Northumberland,  with  his 
friends  LORD  NORTHAMPTON  and  LORD  PEMBROKE  ;  to  murder 
them  if  they  found  need ;  and  to  raise  the  City  to  revolt. 
All  this  the  fallen  Protector  positively  denied ;  except  that 
he  confessed  to  having  spoken  of  the  murder  of  those  three 
noblemen,  but  having  never  designed  it.  He  was  acquitted 
of  the  charge  of  treason,  and  found  guilty  of  the  other  charges  ; 
so  when  the  people  —  who  remembered  his  having  been  their 
friend,  now  that  he  was  disgraced  and  in  danger,  saw  him  come 
out  from  his  trial  with  the  axe  turned  from  him  —  they  thought 
he  was  altogether  acquitted,  and  set  up  a  loud  shout  of  joy. 

But  the  Duke  of  Somerset  was  ordered  to  be  beheaded  on 
Tower  Hill,  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  proclamations 
were  issued  bidding  the  citizens  keep  at  home  until  after  ten. 
They  filled  the  streets,  however,  and  crowded  the  place  of 
execution  as  soon  as  it  was  light ;  and,  with  sad  faces  and 
sad  hearts,  saw  the  once  powerful  Protector  ascend  the  scaf- 
fold to  lay  his  head  upon  the  dreadful  block.  While  he  was 
3'et  saying  his  last  words  to  them  with  manty  courage,  and 
telling  them,  in  particular,  how  it  comforted  him,  at  that  pass, 
to  have  assisted  in  reforming  the  national  religion,  a  member 


EDWARD   THE   SIXTH.  311 

of  the  Council  was  seen  riding  up  on  horseback.  They  again 
thought  that  the  Duke  was  saved  by  his  bringing  a  reprieve, 
and  again  shouted  for  joy.  But  the  Duke  himself  told  them 
they  were  mistaken,  and  laid  down  his  head  and  had  it  struck 
off  at  a  blow. 

Mam-  of  the  bystanders  rushed  forward  and  steeped  their 
handkerchiefs  in  his  blood,  as  a  mark  of  their  affection.  He 
had,  indeed,  been  capable  of  many  good  acts,  and  one  of  them 
was  discovered  after  he  was  no  more.  The  Bishop  of  Dur- 
ham, a  very  good  man,  had  been  informed  against  to  the 
Council,  when  the  Duke  was  in  power,  as  having  answered  a 
treacherous  letter  proposing  a  rebellion  against  the  reformed 
religion.  As  the  answer  could  not  be  found,  he  could  not 
be  declared  guilty  ;  but  it  was  now  discovered,  hidden  by 
the  Duke  himself  among  some  private  papers,  in  his  regard 
for  that  good  man.  The  Bishop  lost  his  office,  and  was 
deprived  of  his  possessions. 

It  is  not  very  pleasant  to  know  that  while  his  uncle  lay 
in  prison  under  sentence  of  death,  the  3"oung  King  was  being 
vastly  entertained  by  plays,  and  dances,  and  sham  fights : 
but  there  is  no  doubt  of  it,  for  he  kept  a  journal  himself. 
It  is  pleasanter  to  know  that  not  a  single  Roman  Catholic 
was  burnt  in  this  reign  for  holding  that  religion ;  though 
two  wretched  victims  suffered  for  heresy.  One,  a  woman 
named  JOAN  BOCHER,  for  professing  some  opinions  that  even 
she  could  only  explain  in  unintelligible  jargon.  The  other, 
a  Dutchman,  named  VON  PARIS,  who  practised  as  a  surgeon 
in  London.  Edward  was,  to  his  credit,  exceedingly  unwill- 
ing to  sign  the  warrant  for  the  woman's  execution :  shed- 
ding tears  before  he  did  so,  and  telling  Cranmer,  who  urged 
him  to  do  it  (though  Cranmer  really  would  have  spared  the 
woman  at  first,  but  for  her  own  determined  obstinacy) ,  that 
the  guilt  was  not  his,  but  that  of  the  man  who  so  strongly 
urged  the  dreadful  act.  We  shall  see,  too  soon,  whether  the 
time  ever  came  when  Cranmer  is  likely  to  have  remembered 
this  with  sorrow  and  remorse. 


312  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

Cranmer  and  RIDLEY  (at  first  Bishop  of  Rochester,  and 
afterwards  Bishop  of  London)  were  the  most  powerful  of  the 
clergy  of  this  reign.  Others  were  imprisoned  and  deprived 
of  their  property  for  still  adhering  to  the  unreformed  religion  ; 
the  most  important  among  whom  were  GARDINER  Bishop  of 
Winchester,  HEATH  Bishop  of  Worcester,  DAY  Bishop  of 
Chichester,  and  BONNER  that  Bishop  of  London  who  was 
superseded  by  Ridley.  The  Princess  Mary,  who  inherited 
her  mother's  gloomy  temper,  and  hated  the  reformed  religion 
as  connected  with  her  mother's  wrongs  and  sorrows  —  she 
knew  nothing  else  about  it,  always  refusing  to  read  a  single 
book  in  which  it  was  truly  described — held  by  the  unre- 
formed religion  too,  and  was  the  only  person  in  the  kingdom 
for  whom  the  old  Mass  was  allowed  to  be  performed ;  nor 
would  the  young  King  have  made  that  exception  even  in  her 
favor,  but  for  the  strong  persuasions  of  Cranmer  and  Ridle}-. 
He  alwa}'s  viewed  it  with  horror ;  and  when  he  fell  into  a 
sickly  condition,  after  having  been  very  ill,  first  of  the 
measles  and  then  of  the  small-pox,  he  was  greatl}'  troubled  in 
mind  to  think  that  if  he  died,  and  she,  the  next  heir  to  the 
throne,  succeeded,  the  Roman  Catholic  religion  would  be  set 
up  again. 

This  uneasiness,  the  Duke  of  Northumberland  was  not  slow 
to  encourage  :  for,  if  the  Princess  Mary  came  to  the  throne, 
he,  who  had  taken  part  with  the  Protestants,  was  sure  to  be 
disgraced.  Now,  the  Duchess  of  Suffolk  was  descended  from 
King  Henry  the  Seventh  ;  and,  if  she  resigned  what  little  or 
no  right  she  had,  in  favor  of  her  daughter  LADY  JANE  GREY, 
that  would  be  the  succession  to  promote  the  Duke's  great- 
ness ;  because  LORD  GUILFORD  DUDLEY,  one  of  his  sons, 
was,  at  this  very  time,  newly  married  to  her.  So,  he  worked 
upon  the  King's  fears,  and  persuaded  him  to  set  aside  both 
the  Princess  Mary  and  the  Princess  Elizabeth,  and  assert  his 
right  to  appoint  his  successor.  Accordingly  the  young  King 
handed  to  the  Crown  lawyers  a  writing  signed  half  a  dozen 
times  over  by  himself,  appointing  Lady  Jane  Gre}'  to  succeed 


EDWARD   THE   SIXTH.  313 

to  the  Crown,  and  requiring  them  to  have  his  will  made  out 
according  to  law.  They  were  much  against  it  at  first,  and 
told  the  King  so  ;  but  the  Duke  of  Northumberland  —  being 
so  violent  about  it  that  the  lawyers  even  expected  him  to 
beat  them,  and  hotly  declaring  that,  stripped  to  his  shirt,  he 
would  fight  any  man  in  such  a  quarrel  —  they  yielded. 
Cranmer,  also,  at  first  hesitated  ;  pleading  that  he  had  sworn 
to  maintain  the  succession  of  the  Crown  to  the  Princess 
Mary ;  but,  he  was  a  weak  man  in  his  resolutions,  and  after- 
wards signed  the  document  with  the  rest  of  the  council. 

It  was  completed  none  too  soon ;  for  Edward  was  now 
sinking  in  a  rapid  decline  ;  and,  by  way  of  making  him  bet- 
ter, they  handed  him  over  to  a  woman-doctor  who  pretended 
to  be  able  to  cure  it.  He  speedil}'  got  worse.  On  the  sixth 
of  July,  in  the  year  one  thousand  five  hundred  and  fifty-three, 
he  died,  very  peaceably  and  piously,  praying  God,  with  his 
last  breath,  to  protect  the  reformed  religion. 

This  King  died  in  the  sixteenth  year  of  his  age,  and  in  the 
seventh  of  his  reign.  It  is  difficult  to  judge  what  the  char- 
acter of  one  so  young  might  afterwards  have  become  among 
so  many  bad,  ambitious,  quarrelling  nobles.  But,  he  was 
an  amiable  bo}',  of  very  good  abilities,  and  had  nothing 
coarse  or  cruel  or  brutal  in  his  disposition  —  which  in  the  son 
of  such  a  father  is  rather  surprising. 


314  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

ENGLAND    UNDER    MARY. 

THE  Duke  of  Northumberland  was  very  anxious  to  keep 
the  young  King's  death  a  secret,  in  order  that  he  might  get 
the  two  Princesses  into  his  power.  But,  the  Princess  Mar}*, 
being  informed  of  that  event  as  she  was  on  her  way  to 
London  to  see  her  sick  brother,  turned  her  horse's  head,  and 
rode  away  into  Norfolk.  The  Earl  of  Arundel  was  her 
friend,  and  it  was  he  who  sent  her  warning  of  what  had 
happened. 

As  the  secret  could  not  be  kept,  the  Duke  of  Northum- 
berland and  the  council  sent  for  the  Lord  Mayor  of  London 
and  some  of  the  aldermen,  and  made  a  merit  of  telling  it  to 
them.  Then,  they  made  it  known  to  the  people,  and  set  off 
to  inform  Lad}-  Jane  Grey  that  she  was  to  be  Queen. 

She  was  a  pretty  girl  of  only  sixteen,  and  was  amiable, 
learned,  and  clever.  When  the  lords  who  came  to  her,  fell 
on  their  knees  before  her,  and  told  her  what  tidings  they 
brought,  she  was  so  astonished  that  she  fainted.  On  recov- 
ering, she  expressed  her  sorrow  for  the  }"oung  King's  death, 
and  said  that  she  knew  she  was  unfit  to  govern  the  kingdom  ; 
but  that  if  she  must  be  Queen,  she  praj'ed  God  to  direct  her. 
She  was  then  at  Sion  House,  near  Brentford  ;  and  the  lords 
took  her  down  the  river  in  state  to  the  Tower,  that  she  might 
remain  there  (as  the  custom  was)  until  she  was  crowned. 
But  the  people  were  not  at  all  favorable  to  Lady  Jane,  con- 
sidering that  the  right  to  be  Queen  was  Mary's,  and  greatly 
disliking  the  Duke  of  Northumberland.  They  were  not  put 
into  a  better  humor  by  the  Duke's  causing  a  vintner's  ser- 


MARY.  315 

vant,  one  Gabriel  Pot,  to  be  taken  up  for  expressing  his  dis- 
satisfaction among  the  crowd,  and  to  have  his  ears  nailed  to 
the  pillory,  and  cut  off.  Some  powerful  men  among  the 
nobilit}7  declared  on  Maiy's  side.  They  raised  troops  to  sup- 
port her  cause,  had  her  proclaimed  Queen  at  Norwich,  and 
gathered  around  her  at  the  castle  of  Framlingham,  which 
belonged  to  the  Duke  of  Norfolk.  For,  she  was  not  con- 
sidered so  safe  as  yet,  but  that  it  was  best  to  keep  her  in  a 
castle  on  the  sea-coast,  from  whence  she  might  be  sent 
abroad,  if  necessary. 

The  Council  would  have  despatched  Lady  Jane's  father, 
the  Duke  of  Suffolk,  as  the  general  of  the  army  against  this 
force  ;  but,  as  Lady  Jane  implored  that  her  father  might 
remain  with  her,  and  as  he  was  known  to  be  but  a  weak  man, 
they  told  the  Duke  of  Northumberland  that  he  must  take  the 
command  himself.  He  was  not  very  ready  to  do  so,  as  he 
mistrusted  the  Council  much ;  but  there  was  no  help  for  it, 
and  he  set  forth  with  a  heavy  heart,  observing  to  a  lord  who 
rode  beside  him  through  Shoreditch  at  the  head  of  the  troops, 
that  although  the  people  pressed  in  great  numbers  to  look  at 
them,  they  were  terribly  silent. 

And  his  fears  for  himself  turned  out  to  be  well  founded. 
While  he  was  waiting  at  Cambridge  for  further  help  from  the 
Council,  the  Council  took  it  into  their  heads  to  turn  their 
backs  on  Lady  Jane's  cause,  and  to  take  up  the  Princess 
Mary's.  This  was  chiefly  owing  to  the  before-mentioned 
Earl  of  Arundel,  who  represented  to  the  Lord  Mayor  and 
aldermen,  in  a  second  interview  with  those  sagacious  per- 
sons, that,  as  for  himself,  he  did  not  perceive  the  Reformed 
religion  to  be  in  much  danger  —  which  Lord  Pembroke  backed 
by  flourishing  his  sword  as  another  kind  of  persuasion.  The 
Lord  Mayor  and  aldermen,  thus  enlightened,  said  there  could 
be  no  doubt  that  the  Princess  Mary  ought  to  be  Queen.  So, 
she  was  proclaimed  at  the  Cross  by  St.  Paul's,  and  barrels  of 
wine  were  given  to  the  people,  and  they  got  very  drunk, 
and  danced  round  blazing  bonfires— little  thinking,  poor 


316  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF   ENGLAND. 

wretches,  what  other  bonfires  would  soon  be  blazing  in  Queen 
Mary's  name. 

After  a  ten  days'  dream  of  ro3'alt}T,  Lady  Jane  Grey  re- 
signed the  Crown  with  great  willingness,  saying  that  she  had 
only  accepted  it  in  obedience  to  her  father  and  mother ;  and 
went  gladly  back  to  her  pleasant  house  by  the  river,  and  her 
books.  Mary  then  came  on  towards  London  ;  and  at  Wan- 
stead  in  Essex,  was  joined  by  her  half-sister,  the  Princess 
Elizabeth.  They  passed  through  the  streets  of  London  to 
the  Tower,  and  there  the  new  Queen  met  some  eminent 
prisoners  then  confined  in  it,  kissed  them,  and  gave  them 
their  liberty.  Among  these  was  that  Gardiner,  Bishop  of 
Winchester,  who  had  been  imprisoned  in  the  last  reign  for 
holding  to  the  unreformed  religion.  Him  she  soon  made 
chancellor. 

The  Duke  of  Northumberland  had  been  taken  prisoner, 
and,  together  with  his  son  and  five  others,  was  quickly  brought 
before  the  Council.  He,  not  unnaturally,  asked  that  Council, 
in  his  defence,  whether  it  was  treason  to  obey  orders  that 
had  been  issued  under  the  great  seal ;  and,  if  it  were,  whether 
they,  who  had  obeyed  them  too,  ought  to  be  his  judges? 
But  they  made  light  of  these  points  ;  and,  being  resolved  to 
have  him  out  of  the  wa}r,  soon  sentenced  him  to  death.  He 
had  risen  into  power  upon  the  death  of  another  man,  and 
made  but  a  poor  show  (as  might  be  expected)  when  he  him- 
self lay  low.  He  entreated  Gardiner  to  let  him  live,  if  it 
were  only  in  a  mouse's  hole ;  and,  when  he  ascended  the 
scaffold  to  be  beheaded  on  Tower  Hill,  addressed  the  people 
in  a  miserable  way,  sa}'ing  that  he  had  been  incited  by  others, 
and  exhorting  them  to  return  to  the  unreformed  religion, 
which  he  told  them  was  his  faith.  There  seems  reason  to 
suppose  that  he  expected  a  pardon  even  then,  in  return  for 
this  confession ;  but  it  matters  little  whether  he  did  or  not. 
His  head  was  struck  off. 

Mary  was  now  crowned  Queen.  She  was  thiity-seven 
years  of  age,  short  and  thin,  wrinkled  in  the  face,  and  very 


MARY.  317 

unhealthy.  But  she  had  a  great  liking  for  show  and  for  bright 
colors,  and  all  the  ladies  of  her  Court  were  magnificently 
dressed.  She  had  a  great  liking  too  for  old  customs,  without 
much  sense  in  them ;  and  she  was  oiled  in  the  oldest  way, 
and  blessed  in  the  oldest  way,  and  done  all  manner  of  things 
to  in  the  oldest  way,  at  her  coronation.  I  hope  they  did 
her  good. 

She  soon  began  to  show  her  desire  to  put  down  the  Re- 
formed religion,  and  put  up  the  unreformed  one :  though  it 
was  dangerous  work  as  yet,  the  people  being  something  wiser 
than  thej-  used  to  be.  They  even  cast  a  shower  of  stones  — 
and  among  them  a  dagger  —  at  one  of  the  royal  chaplains 
who  attacked  the  Reformed  religion  in  a  public  sermon.  But 
the  Queen  and  her  priests  went  steadity  on.  Ridley,  the 
powerful  bishop  of  the  last  reign,  was  seized  and  sent  to 
the  Tower.  LATIMEU,  also  celebrated  among  the  clergy  of  the 
last  reign,  was  likewise  sent  to  the  Tower,  and  Cranmer 
speedily  followed.  Latimer  was  an  aged  man ;  and,  as  his 
guards  took  him  through  Smithfield,  he  looked  round  it,  and 
said,  "  This  is  a  place  that  hath  long  groaned  for  me."  For 
he  knew  well,  what  kind  of  bonfires  would  soon  be  burning. 
Nor  was  the  knowledge  confined  to  him.  The  prisons  were 
fast  filled  with  the  chief  Protestants,  who  were  there  left 
rotting  in  darkness,  hunger,  dirt,  and  separation  from  their 
friends  ;  many,  who  had  time  left  them  for  escape,  fled  from 
the  kingdom ;  and  the  dullest  of  the  people  began,  now,  to 
see  what  was  coming. 

It  came  on  fast.  A  Parliament  was  got  together;  not 
without  strong  suspicion  of  unfairness ;  and  they  annulled 
the  divorce,  former^  pronounced  by  Cranmer  between  the 
Queen's  mother  and  King  Henry  the  Eighth,  and  unmade  all 
the  laws  on  the  subject  of  religion  that  had  been  made  in 
the  last  King  Edward's  reign.  They  began  their  proceedings, 
in  violation  of  the  law,  by  having  the  old  mass  said  before 
them  in  Latin,  and  by  turning  out  a  bishop  who  would  not 
kneel  down.  They  also  declared  guilty  of  treason,  Lady  Jane 


318  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

Grey  for  aspiring  to  the  Crown  ;  her  husband,  for  being  her 
husband  ;  and  Cranmer,  for  not  believing  in  the  mass  afore- 
said. They  then  prayed  the  Queen  graciously  to  choose  a 
husband  for  herself,  as  soon  as  might  be. 

Now,  the  question  who  should  be  the  Queen's  husband  had 
given  rise  to  a  great  deal  of  discussion,  and  to  several  con- 
tending parties.  Some  said  Cardinal  Pole  was  the  man  — 
but  the  Queen  was  of  opinion  that  he  was  not  the  man,  he 
being  too  old  and  too  much  of  a  student.  Others  said  that 
the  gallant  young  COURTENAY,  whom  the  Queen  had  made 
Earl  of  Devonshire,  was  the  man  —  and  the  Queen  thought 
so  too,  for  a  while  ;  but  she  changed  her  mind.  At  last  it 
appeared  that  PHILIP,  PRINCE  OF  SPAIN,  was  certainly  the 
man  —  though  certainly  not  the  people's  man ;  for  they  de- 
tested the  idea  of  such  a  marriage  from  the  beginning  to  the 
end,  and  murmured  that  the  Spaniard  would  establish  in 
England,  by  the  aid  of  foreign  soldiers,  the  worst  abuses  of 
the  Popish  religion,  and  even  the  terrible  Inquisition  itself. 

These  discontents  gave  rise  to  a  conspiracy  for  marrying 
young  Courtenay  to  the  Princess  Elizabeth,  and  setting  them 
up,  with  popular  tumults  all  over  the  kingdom,  against  the 
Queen.  This  was  discovered  in  time  by  Gardiner ;  but  in 
Kent,  the  old  bold  county,  the  people  rose  in  their  old  bold 
wa}r.  SIR  THOMAS  WTAT,  a  man  of  great  daring,  was  their 
leader.  He  raised  his  standard  at  Maidstone,  marched  on  to 
Rochester,  established  himself  in  the  old  castle  there,  and 
prepared  to  hold  out  against  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  who  came 
against  him  with  a  party  of  the  Queen's  Guards,  and  a  body 
of  five  hundred  London  men.  The  London  men,  however, 
were  all  for  Elizabeth,  and  not  at  all  for  Mary.  They  de- 
clared, under  the  castle  walls,  for  Wyat ;  the  Duke  retreated  ; 
and  Wyat  came  on  to  Deptford,  at  the  head  of  fifteen  thou- 
sand men. 

But  these,  in  their  turn,  fell  away.  When  he  came  to 
Southwark,  there  were  only  two  thousand  left.  Not  dismayed 
by  finding  the  London  citizens  in  arms,  and  the  guns  at  the 


MARY.  319 

Tower  reacty  to  oppose  his  crossing  the  river  there,  "Wyat  led 
them  off  to  Kingston-upon-Thames,  intending  to  cross  the 
bridge  that  he  knew  to  be  in  that  place,  and  so  to  work  his 
way  round  to  Ludgate,  one  of  the  old  gates  of  the  City.  lie 
found  the  bridge  broken  down,  but  mended  it,  came  across, 
and  bravely  fought  his  way  up  Fleet  Street  to  Ludgate  Hill. 
Finding  the  gate  closed  against  him,  he  fought  his  way  back 
again,  sword  in  hand,  to  Temple  Bar.  Here,  being  over- 
powered, he  surrendered  himself,  and  three  or  four  hundred 
of  his  men  were  taken,  besides  a  hundred  killed.  Wyat,  in 
a  moment  of  weakness  (and  perhaps  of  torture)  was  after- 
wards made  to  accuse  the  Princess  Elizabeth  as  his  accomplice 
to  some  very  small  extent.  But  his  manhood  soon  returned 
to  him,  and  he  refused  to  save  his  life  by  making  any  more 
false  confessions.  He  was  quartered  and  distributed  in  the 
usual  brutal  way,  and  from  fifty  to  a  hundred  of  his  followers 
were  hanged.  The  rest  were  led  out,  with  halters  round  their 
necks,  to  be  pardoned,  and  to  make  a  parade  of  crying  out, 
"  God  save  Queen  Mary  !  " 

In  the  danger  of  this  rebellion,  the  Queen  showed  herself 
to  be  a  woman  of  courage  and  spirit.  She  disdained  to  re- 
treat to  anj"  place  of  safety,  and  went  down  to  the  Guildhall, 
sceptre  in  hand,  and  made  a  gallant  speech  to  the  Lord  Mayor 
and  citizens.  But  on  the  day  after  W}-at's  defeat,  she  did 
the  most  cruel  act  even  of  her  cruel  reign,  in  signing  the 
warrant  for  the  execution  of  Lady  Jane  Grey. 

They  tried  to  persuade  Lady  Jane  to  accept  the  unreformed 
religion ;  but  she  steadily  refused.  On  the  morning  when 
she  was  to  die,  she  saw  from  her  window  the  bleeding  and 
headless  body  of  her  husband  brought  back  in  a  cart  from 
the  scaffold  on  Tower  Hill  where  he  had  laid  down  his  life. 
But,  as  she  had  declined  to  see  him  before  his  execution, 
lest  she  should  be  overpowered  and  not  make  a  good  end,  so, 
she  even  now  showed  a  constancy  and  calmness  that  will 
never  be  forgotten.  She  came  up  to  the  scaffold  with  a  firm 
step  and  a  quiet  face,  and  addressed  the  bystanders  in  a 


320  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

steady  voice.  They  were  not  numerous ;  for  she  was  too 
3*oung,  too  innocent  and  fair,  to  be  murdered  before  the 
people  on  Tower  Hill,  as  her  husband  had  just  been  ;  so,  the 
place  of  her  execution  was  within  the  Tower  itself.  She  said 
that  she  had  done  an  unlawful  act  in  taking  what  was  Queen 
Mary's  right ;  but  that  she  had  done  so  with  no  bad  intent, 
and  that  she  died  a  humble  Christian.  She  begged  the  ex- 
ecutioner to  despatch  her  quickly,  and  she  asked  him,  "  Will 
you  take  my  head  off  before  I  lay  me  down?  "  He  answered, 
'•  No,  Madam,"  and  then  she  was  very  quiet  while  they  band- 
aged her  eyes.  Being  blinded,  and  unable  to  see  the  block 
on  which  she  was  to  lay  her  }*oung  head,  she  was  seen  to  feel 
about  for  it  with  her  hands,  and  was  heard  to  say,  confused, 
"  O  what  shall  I  do  !  Where  is  it?  "  Then  they  guided  her 
to  the  right  place,  and  the  executioner  struck  off  her  head. 
You  know  too  well,  now,  what  dreadful  deeds  the  executioner 
did  in  England,  through  many  man}'  years,  and  how  his  axe 
descended  on  the  hateful  block  through  the  necks  of  some  of 
the  bravest,  wisest,  and  best  in  the  land.  But  it  never  struck 
so  cruel  and  so  vile  a  blow  as  this. 

The  father  of  Lady  Jane  soon  followed,  but  was  little 
pitied.  Queen  Mary's  next  object  was  to  lay  hold  of  Eliza- 
beth, and  this  was  pursued  with  great  eagerness.  Five  hun- 
dred men  were  sent  to  her  retired  house  at  Ashridge,  b}* 
Berkhampstead,  with  orders  to  bring  her  up,  alive  or  dead. 
They  got  there  at  ten  at  night,  when  she  was  sick  in  bed. 
But,  their  leaders  followed  her  lady  in,to  her  bedchamber, 
whence  she  was  brought  out  betimes  next  morning,  and  put 
into  a  litter  to  be  conve}red  to  London.  She  was  so  weak  and 
ill,  that  she  was  five  days  on  the  road ;  still,  she  was  so  re- 
solved to  be  seen  by  the  people  that  she  had  the  curtains  of 
the  litter  opened  ;  and  so,  very  pale  and  sickly,  passed  through 
the  streets.  She  wrote  to  her  sister,  saying  she  was  innocent 
of  any  crime,  and  asking  why  she  was  made  a  prisoner ;  but 
she  got  no  answer,  and  was  ordered  to  the  Tower.  They 
took  her  in  by  the  Traitor's  Gate,  to  which  she  objected,  but 


MARY.  321 

in  vain.  One  of  the  lords  who  combed  her  offered  to  cover 
her  with  his  cloak,  as  it  was  raining,  but  she  put  it  away  from 
her,  proudly  and  scornfully,  and  passed  into  the  Tower,  and 
sat  down  in  a  courtyard  on  a  stone.  They  besought  her  to 
come  in  out  of  the  wet ;  but  she  answered  that  it  was  better 
sitting  there,  than  in  a  worse  place.  At  length  she  went  to 
her  apartment,  where  she  was  kept  a  prisoner,  though  not  so 
close  a  prisoner  as  at  Woodstock,  whither  she  was  afterwards 
removed,  and  where  she  is  said  to  have  one  da}-  envied  a 
milkmaid  whom  she  heard  singing  in  the  sunshine  as  she  went 
through  the  green  fields.  Gardiner,  than  whom  there  were 
not  many  worse  men  among  the  fierce  and  sullen  priests, 
cared  little  to  keep  secret  his  stern  desire  for  her  death  :  being 
used  to  say  that  it  was  of  little  service  to  shake  off  the  leaves, 
and  lop  the  branches  of  the  tree  of  heresy,  if  its  root,  the 
hope  of  heretics,  were  left.  He  failed,  however,  in  his  be- 
nevolent design.  Elizabeth  was,  at  length,  released ;  and 
Hatfield  House  was  assigned  to  her  as  a  residence,  under  the 
care  of  one  SIR  THOMAS  POPE. 

It  would  seem  that  Philip,  the  Prince  of  Spain,  was  a 
main  cause  of  this  change  in  Elizabeth's  fortunes.  He  was 
not  an  amiable  man,  being,  on  the  contrary,  proud,  over- 
bearing, and  gloomy ;  but  he  and  the  Spanish  lords  who 
came  over  with  him,  assuredly  did  discountenance  the  idea  of 
doing  any  violence  to  the  Princess.  It  may  have  been  mere 
prudence,  but  we  will  hope  it  was  manhood  and  honor. 
The  Queen  had  been  expecting  her  husband  with  great  im 
patience,  and  at  length  he  came,  to  her  great  joy,  though  he 
never  cared  much  for  her.  They  were  married  by  Gardiner, 
at  Winchester,  and  there  was  more  holiday-making  among 
the  people ;  but  they  had  their  old  distrust  of  this  Spanish 
marriage,  in  which  even  the  Parliament  shared.  Though  the 
members  of  that  Parliament  were  far  from  honest,  and  were 
strongly  suspected  to  have  been  bought  with  Spanish  money, 
they  would  pass  no  bill  to  enable  the  Queen  to  set  aside  the 
Princess  Elizabeth  and  appoint  her  own  successor. 

21 


322  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

Although  Gai'diner  failed  in  this  object,  as  well  as  in  the 
darker  one  of  bringing  the  Princess  to  the  scaffold,  he  went 
on  at  a  great  pace  in  the  revival  of  the  unre formed  religion. 
A  new  Parliament  was  packed,  in  which  there  were  no  Prot- 
estants. Preparations  were  made  to  receive  Cardinal  Pole 
in  England  as  the  Pope's  messenger,  bringing  his  holy  decla- 
ration that  all  the  nobility  who  had  acquired  Church  property, 
should  keep  it  —  which  was  done  to  enlist  their  selfish  interest 
on  the  Pope's  side.  Then  a  great  scene  was  enacted,  which 
was  the  triumph  of  the  Queen's  plans.  Cardinal  Pole  ar- 
rived in  great  splendor  and  dignfty,  and  was  received  with 
great  pomp.  The  Parliament  joined  in  a  petition  expressive 
of  their  sorrow  at  the  change  in  the  national  religion,  and 
praying  him  to  receive  the  country  again  into  the  Popish 
Church.  With  the  Queen  sitting  on  her  throne,  and  the 
King  on  one  side  of  her,  and  the  Cardinal  on  the  other,  and 
the  Parliament  present,  Gardiner  read  the  petition  aloud. 
The  Cardinal  then  made  a  great  speech,  and  was  so  obliging 
as  to  say  that  all  was  forgotten  and  forgiven,  and  that  the 
kingdom  was  solemnly  made  Roman  Catholic  again. 

Everything  was  now  ready  for  the  lighting  of  the  terrible 
bonfires.  The  Queen  having  declared  to  the  Council,  in  writ- 
ing, that  she  would  wish  none  of  her  subjects  to  be  burnt 
without  some  of  the  Council  being  present,  and  that  she 
would  particularly  wish  there  to  be  good  sermons  at  all  burn- 
ings, the  Council  knew  pretty  well  what  was  to  be  done  next. 
So,  after  the  Cardinal  had  blessed  all  the  bishops  as  a  pref- 
ace to  the  burnings,  the  Chancellor  Gardiner  opened  a  High 
Court  at  Saint  Mary  Overy,  on  the  Southwark  side  of  Lon- 
don Bridge,  for  the  trial  of  heretics.  Here,  two  of  the  late 
Protestant  clergj'men,  HOOPER,  Bishop  of  Gloucester,  and 
ROGERS,  a  Prebendary  of  St.  Paul's,  were  brought  to  be  tried. 
Hooper  was  tried  first  for  being  married,  though  a  priest, 
and  for  not  believing  in  the  mass.  He  admitted  both  of 
these  accusations,  and  said  that  the  mass  was  a  wicked  im- 
position. Then  they  tried  Rogers,  who  said  the  same. 


MARY.  323 

Next  morning  the  two  were  brought  up  to  be  sentenced  ;  and 
then  Rogers  said  that  his  poor  wife,  being  a  German  woman 
and  a  stranger  in  the  land,  he  hoped  might  be  allowed  to 
come  to  speak  to  him  before  he  died.  To  this  the  inhuman 
Gardiner  replied,  that  she  was  not  his  wife.  "Yea,  but  she 
is,  my  lord,"  said  Rogers,  "  and  she  hath  been  my  wife  these 
eighteen  years."  His  request  was  still  refused,  and  they 
were  both  sent  to  Newgate  ;  all  those  who  stood  in  the  streets 
to  sell  things,  being  ordered  to  put  out  their  lights  that  the 
people  might  not  see  them.  But,  the  people  stood  at  their 
doors  with  candles  in  their  hands,  and  prayed  for  them  as 
they  went  b}'.  Soon  afterwards,  Rogers  was  taken  out  of 
jail  to  be  burnt  in  Smith  field ;  and  in  the  crowd  as  he  went 
along,  he  saw  his  poor  wife  and  his  ten  children,  of  whom  the 
youngest  was  a  little  baby.  And  so  he  was  burnt  to  death. 

The  next  day,  Hooper,  who  was  to  be  burnt  at  Gloucester, 
was  brought  out  to  take  his  last  journey,  and  was  made  to 
wear  a  hood  over  his  face  that  he  might  not  be  known  by  the 
people.  But,  they  did  know  him  for  all  that,  down  in  his 
own  part  of  the  country ;  and,  when  he  came  near  Glouces- 
ter, they  lined  the  road,  making  prayers  and  lamentations. 
His  guards  took  him  to  a  lodging,  where  he  slept  soundly 
all  night.  At  nine  o'clock  next  morning,  he  was  brought 
forth  leaning  on  a  staff;  for  he  had  taken  cold  in  prison, 
and  was  infirm.  The  iron  stake,  and  the  iron  chain  which 
was  to  bind  him  to  it,  were  fixed  up  near  a  great  elm-tree  in 
a  pleasant  open  place  before  the  cathedral,  where,  on  peace- 
ful Sunda3'8,  he  had  been  accustomed  to  preach  and  to  pray, 
when  he  was  bishop  of  Gloucester.  This  tree,  which  had 
no  leaves  then,  it  being  February,  was  filled  with  people ; 
and  the  priests  of  Gloucester  College  were  looking  compla- 
cently on  from  a  window,  and  there  was  a  great  concourse  of 
spectators  in  every  spot  from  which  a  glimpse  of  the  dread- 
ful sight  could  be  beheld.  When  the  old  man  kneeled  down 
on  the  small  platform  at  the  foot  of  the  stake,  and  prayed 
aloud,  the  nearest  people  were  observed  to  be  so  attentive  to 


324  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

his  prayers  that  they  were  ordered  to  stand  farther  back: 
for  it  did  not  suit  the  Romish  Church  to  have  those  Protes- 
tant words  heard.  His  pra}-ers  concluded,  he  went  up  to 
the  stake  and  was  stripped  to  his  shirt,  and  chained  ready 
for  the  fire.  One  of  his  guards  had  such  compassion  on  him 
that,  to  shorten  his  agonies,  he  tied  some  packets  of 
gunpowder  about  him.  Then  the}'  heaped  up  wood  and 
straw  and  reeds,  and  set  them  all  alight.  But,  unhap- 
pily, the  wood  was  green  and  damp,  and  there  was  a  wind 
blowing  that  blew  what  flame  there  was  awa}T.  Thus,  through 
three-quarters  of  an  hour,  the  good  old  man  was  scorched 
and  roasted  and  smoked,  as  the  fire  rose  and  sank ;  and  all 
that  time  they  saw  him,  as  he  burned,  moving  his  lips  in 
prayer,  and  beating  his  breast  with  one  hand,  even  after  the 
other  was  burnt  away  and  had  fallen  off. 

Cranmer,  Ridley,  and  Latimer,  were  taken  to  Oxford  to 
dispute  with  a  commission  of  priests  and  doctors  about  the 
mass.  They  were  shamefully  treated ;  and  it  is  reported 
that  the  Oxford  scholars  hissed  and  howled  and  groaned,  and 
misconducted  themselves  in  an  anything  but  a  scholar!}-  way. 
The  prisoners  were  taken  back  to  jail,  and  afterwards  tried 
in  St.  Maiy's  Church.  The}"  were  all  found  guilty.  On  the 
sixteenth  of  the  month  of  October,  Ridley  and  Latimer  were 
brought  out,  to  make  another  of  the  dreadful  bonfires. 

The  scene  of  the  suffering  of  these  two  good  Protestant 
men  was  in  the  City  ditch,  near  Baliol  College.  On  coming 
to  the  dreadful  spot,  they  kissed  the  stakes,  and  then  em- 
braced each  other.  And  then  a  learned  doctor  got  up  into 
a  pulpit  which  was  placed  there,  and  preached  a  sermon  from 
the  text,  "Though  I  give  my  body  to  be  burned,  and  have 
not  charit}r,  it  profiteth  me  nothing."  When  you  think  of 
the  charity  of  burning  men  alive,  you  ma}'  imagine  that  this 
learned  doctor  had  a  rather  brazen  face.  Ridley  would  have 
answered  his  sermon  when  it  came  to  an  end,  but  was  not 
allowed.  When  Latimer  was  stripped,  it  appeared  that  he 
had  dressed  himself  under  his  other  clothes,  in  a  new  shroud  ; 


MARY.  325 

and,  as  he  stood  in  it  before  all  the  people,  it  was  noted  of 
him,  and  long  remembered,  that,  whereas  he  had  been  stoop- 
ing and  feeble  but  a  few  minutes  before,  he  now  stood  up- 
right and  handsome,  in  the  knowledge  that  he  was  dying  for 
a  just  and  a  great  cause.  Ridley's  brother-in-law  was  there 
with  bags  of  gunpowder  ;  and  when  they  were  both  chained 
up,  he  tied  them  round  their  bodies.  Then,  a  light  was 
thrown  upon  the  pile  to  fire  it.  "Be  of  good  comfort,  Mas- 
ter Ridley,"  said  Latimer,  at  that  awful  moment,  "and  play 
the  man !  We  shall  this  day  light  such  a  candle,  by  God's 
grace,  in  England,  as  I  trust  shall  never  be  put  out."  And 
then  he  was  seen  to  make  motions  with  his  hands  as  if  he 
were  washing  them  in  the  flames,  and  to  stroke  his  aged  face 
with  them,  and  was  heard  to  cry,  "  Father  of  Heaven,  re- 
ceive my  soul !  "  He  died  quickly,  but  the  fire,  after  having 
burned  the  legs  of  Ridley,  sunk.  There  he  lingered,  chained 
to  the  iron  post,  and  crying,  "O!  I  cannot  burn!  O!  for 
Christ's  sake  let  the  fire  come  unto  me  !  "  And  still,  when 
his  brother-in-law  had  heaped  on  more  wood,  he  was  heard 
through  the  blinding  smoke,  still  dismally  crying,  "O!  I 
cannot  burn,  I  cannot  burn ! "  At  last,  the  gunpowder 
caught  fire  and  ended  his  miseries. 

Five  days  after  this  fearful  scene,  Gardiner  went  to  his 
tremendous  account  before  God,  for  the  cruelties  he  had  so 
much  assisted  in  committing. 

Cranmer  remained  still  alive  and  in  prison.  He  was 
brought  out  again  in  February,  for  more  examining  and  try- 
ing, by  Bonner,  Bishop  of  London  :  another  man  of  blood, 
who  had  succeeded  to  Gardiner's  work,  even  in  his  lifetime, 
when  Gardiner  was  tired  of  it.  Cranmer  was  now  degraded 
as  a  priest,  and  left  for  death :  but  if  the  Queen  hated  any 
one  on  earth,  she  hated  him,  and  it  was  resolved  that  he 
should  be  ruined  and  disgraced  to  the  utmost.  There  is  no 
doubt  that  the  Queen  and  her  husband  personally  urged  on 
these  deeds,  because  the}T  wrote  to  the  Council,  urging  them 
to  be  active  in  the  kindling  of  the  fearful  fires.  As  Cranmer 


326  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

was  known  not  to  be  a  firm  man,  a  plan  was  laid  for  sur- 
rounding him  with  artful  people,  and  inducing  him  to  recant 
to  the  unreformed  religion.  Deans  and  friars  visited  him, 
played  at  bowls  with  him,  showed  him  various  attentions, 
talked  persuasively  with  him,  gave  him  money  for  his  prison 
comforts,  and  induced  him  to  sign,  I  fear  as  many  as  six 
recantations.  But  when,  after  all,  he  was  taken  out  to  be 
burnt,  he  was  nobly  true  to  his  better  self,  and  made  a  glo- 
rious end. 

After  pra}rers  and  a  sermon,  Dr.  Cole,  the  preacher  of  the 
day  (who  had  been  one  of  the  artful  priests  about  Cranmer 
in  prison-) ,  required  him  to  make  a  public  confession  of  his 
faith  before  the  people.  This,  Cole  did,  expecting  that  he 
would  declare  himself  a  Roman  Catholic.  ' '  I  will  make  a 
profession  of  my  faith,"  said  Cranmer,  "  and  with  a  good 
will  too." 

Then,  he  arose  before  them  all,  and  took  from  the  sleeve  of 
his  robe  a  written  prayer  and  read  it  aloud.  That  done,  he 
kneeled  and  said  the  Lord's  Prayer,  all  the  people  joining ; 
and  then  he  arose  again  and  told  them  that  he  believed  in  the 
Bible,  and  that  in  what  he  had  lately  written,  he  had  written 
what  was  not  the  truth,  and  that,  because  his  right  hand  had 
signed  those  papers,  he  would  burn  his  right  hand  first  when 
he  came  to  the  fire.  As  for  the  Pope,  he  did  refuse  him  and 
denounce  him  as  the  enemy  of  Heaven.  Hereupon  the  pious 
Dr.  Cole  cried  out  to  the  guards  to  stop  that  heretic's  mouth 
and  take  him  away. 

So  they  took  him  away,  and  chained  him  to  the  stake, 
where  he  hastily  took  off  his  own  clothes  to  make  read}'  for 
the  flames.  And  he  stood  before  the  people  with  a  bald  head 
and  a  white  and  flowing  beard.  He  was  so  firm  now,  when 
the  worst  was  come,  that  he  again  declared  against  his  re- 
cantation, and  was  so  impressive  and  so  undismayed,  that  a 
certain  lord,  who  was  one  of  the  directors  of  the  execution, 
called  out  to  the  men  to  make  haste !  When  the  fire  was 
lighted,  Cranmer,  true  to  his  latest  word,  stretched  out  his 


MARY.  327 

right  hand,  and  crying  out,  "This  hand  hath  offended!" 
held  it  among  the  flames,  until  it  blazed  and  burned  away. 
His  heart  was  found  entire  among  his  ashes,  and  he  left  at 
last  a  memorable  name  in  English  history.  Cardinal  Pole 
celebrated  the  day  by  saying  his  first  mass,  and  next  day  he 
was  made  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  in  Cranmer's  place. 

The  Queen's  husband,  who  was  now  mostly  abroad  in  his 
own  dominions,  and  generally  made  a  coarse  jest  of  her  to 
his  more  familiar  courtiers,  was  at  war  with  France,  and 
came  over  to  seek  the"  assistance  of  England.  England  was 
very  unwilling  to  engage  in  a  French  war  for  his  sake  ;  but  it 
happened  that  the  King  of  France,  at  this  very  time,  aided 
a  descent  upon  the  English  coast.  Hence,  war  was  declared, 
greatly  to  Philip's  satisfaction  ;  and  the  Queen  raised  a  sum 
of  inone}r  with  which  to  carry  it  on,  by  ever3T  unjustifiable 
means  in  her  power.  It  met  with  no  profitable  return,  for 
the  French  Duke  of  Guise  surprised  Calais,  and  the  English 
sustained  a  complete  defeat.  The  losses  they  met  with  in 
France  greatly  mortified. the  national  pride,  and  the  Queen 
never  recovered  the  blow. 

There  was  a  bad  fever  raging  in  England  at  this  time,  and 
I  am  glad  to  write  that  the  Queen  took  it,  and  the  hour  of 
her  death  came.  "  When  I  am  dead  and  my  body  is  opened," 
she  said  to  those  around  her,  "ye  shall  find  CALAIS  written 
on  my  heart."  I  should  have  thought,  if  anything  were 
written  on  it,  they  would  have  found  the  words — JANE  GKEY, 
HOOPER,  ROGERS,  RIDLEY,  LATIMER,  CRANMER,  AND  THREE 
HUNDRED  PEOPLE  BURNT  ALIVE  WITHIN  FOUR  YEARS  OF  MY 
WICKED  REIGN,  INCLUDING  SIXTY  WOMEN  AND  FORTY  LITTLE 
CHILDREN.  But  it  is  enough  that  their  deaths  were  written  in 
Heaven. 

The  Queen  died  on  the  seventeenth  of  November,  fifteen 
hundred  and  fifty-eight,  after  reigning  not  quite  five  years  and 
a  half,  and  in  the  forty-fourth  year  of  her  age.  Cardinal 
Pole  died  of  the  same  fever  next  day. 

As  BLOODY  QUEEN  MARY,  this  woman  has  become  famous, 


328  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

and  as  BLOODY  QUEEN  MARY,  she  will  ever  be  justly  remem- 
bered with  horror  and  detestation  in  Great  Britain.  Her 
memory  has  been  held  in  such  abhorrence  that  some  writers 
have  arisen  in  later  years  to  take  her  part,  and  to  show  that 
she  was,  upon  the  whole,  quite  an  amiable  and  cheerful 
sovereign  !  "  By  their  fruits  ye  shall  know  them,"  said  OUR 
SAVIOUR.  The  stake  and  the  fire  were  the  fruits  of  this  reign, 
and  you  will  judge  this  Queen  by  nothing  else. 


ELIZABETH.  329 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

ENGLAND    UNDER    ELIZABETH. 

THERE  was  great  rejoicing  all  over  the  land  when  the  Lords 
of  the  Council  went  down  to  Hatfield,  to  hail  the  Princess 
Elizabeth  as  the  new  Queen  of  England.  Weary  of  the  bar- 
barities of  Mary's  reign,  the  people  looked  with  hope  and 
gladness  to  the  new  Sovereign.  The  nation  seemed  to  wake 
from  a  horrible  dream ;  and  Heaven,  so  long  hidden  by  the 
smoke  of  the  fires  that  roasted  men  and  women  to  death,  ap- 
peared to  brighten  once  more. 

Queen  Elizabeth  was  five-and-twenty  3Tears  of  age  when 
she  rode  through  the  streets  of  London,  from  the  Tower  to 
Westminster  Abbey,  to  be  crowned.  Her  countenance  was 
strongly  marked,  but  on  the  whole,  commanding  and  digni- 
fied ;  her  hair  was  red,  and  her  nose  something  too  long  and 
sharp  for  a  woman's.  She  was  not  the  beautiful  creature  her 
courtiers  made  out ;  but  she  was  well  enough,  and  no  doubt 
looked  all  the  better  for  coming  after  the  dark  and  gloom}' 
Mary.  She  was  well  educated,  but  a  roundabout  writer,  and 
rather  a  hard  swearer  and  coarse  talker.  She  was  clever,  but 
cunning  and  deceitful,  and  inherited  much  of  her  father's 
violent  temper.  I  mention  this  now,  because  she  has  been 
so  over-praised  by  one  party,  and  so  over-abused  by  another, 
that  it  is  hardly  possible  to  understand  the  greater  part  of 
her  reign  without  first  understanding  what  kind  of  a  woman 
she  realty  was. 

She  began  her  reign  with  the  great  advantage  of  having  a 
very  wise  and  careful  Minister,  SIR  WILLIAM  CECIL,  whom 
she  afterwards  made  LORD  BURLEIGH.  Altogether,  the  peo- 


330  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

pie  had  greater  reason  for  rejoicing  than  they  usually  had, 
when  there  were  processions  in  the  streets ;  and  they  were 
happy  with  some  reason.  All  kinds  of  shows  and  images 
were  set  up ;  GOG  and  MAGOG  were  hoisted  to  the  top  of 
Temple  Bar ;  and  (which  was  more  to  the  purpose)  the  Cor- 
poration dutifully  presented  the  young  Queen  with  the  sum 
of  a  thousand  marks  in  gold  —  so  heavy  a  present  that  she 
was  obliged  to  take  it  into  her  carriage  with  both  hands. 
The  coronation  was  a  great  success ;  and,  on  the  next  day, 
one  of  the  courtiers  presented  a  petition  to  the  new  Queen, 
praying  that  as  it  was  the  custom  to  release  some  prisoners 
on  such  occasions,  she  would  have  the  goodness  to  release 
the  four  Evangelists,  Matthew,  Mark,  Luke,  and  John,  and 
also  the  Apostle  Saint  Paul,  who  had  been  for  some  time 
shut  up  in  a  strange  language  so  that  the  people  could  not 
get  at  them. 

To  this,  the  Queen  replied  that  it  would  be  better  first  to 
inquire  of  themselves  whether  they  desired  to  be  released  or 
not ;  and,  as  a  means  of  finding  out,  a  great  public  discussion 
—  a  sort  of  religious  tournament  —  was  appointed  to  take 
place  between  certain  champions  of  the  two  religions,  in 
Westminster  Abbey.  You  may  suppose  that  it  was  soon 
made  pretty  clear  to  common  sense,  that  for  people  to  benefit 
by  what  they  repeat  or  read,  it  is  rather  necessary  they  should 
understand  something  about  it.  Accordingly,  a  Church  Ser- 
vice in  plain  English  was  settled,  and  other  laws  and  regula- 
tions were  made,  completely  establishing  the  great  work  of 
the  Reformation.  The  Romish  bishops  and  champions  were 
not  harshly  dealt  with,  all  things  considered ;  and  the  Queen's 
Ministers  were  both  prudent  and  merciful. 

The  one  great  trouble  of  this  reign,  and  the  unfortunate 
cause  of  the  greater  part  of  such  turmoil  and  bloodshed  as 
occurred  in  it,  was  MARY  STUART,  QUEEN  OF  SCOTS.  We 
will  try  to  understand,  in  as  few  words  as  possible,  who 
Mary  was,  what  she  was,  and  how  she  came  to  be  a  thorn  in 
the  royal  pillow  of  Elizabeth. 


ELIZABETH.  331 

She  was  the  daughter  of  the  Queen  Regent  of  Scotland, 
MARY  OF  GUISE.  She  had  been  married,  when  a  mere  child, 
to  the  Dauphin,  the  son  and  heir  of  the  King  of  France. 
The  Pope,  who  pretended  that  no  one  could  rightfully  wear 
the  crown  of  England  without  his  gracious  permission,  was 
strongly  opposed  to  Elizabeth,  who  had  not  asked  for  the 
said  gracious  permission.  And  as  Mary  Queen  of  Scots 
would  have  inherited  the  English  crown  in  right  of  her  birth, 
supposing  the  English  Parliament  not  to  have  altered  the 
succession,  the  Pope  himself,  and  most  of  the  discontented 
who  were  followers  of  his,  maintained  that  Mary  was  the 
rightful  Queen  of  England,  and  Elizabeth  the  wrongful 
Queen.  Mary  being  so  closely  connected  with  France,  and 
France  being  jealous  of  England,  there  was  far  greater  dan- 
ger in  this  than  there  would  have  been  if  she  had  had  no 
alliance  with  that  great  power.  And  when  her  young  hus- 
band, on  the  death  of  his  father,  became  FRANCIS  THE  SEC- 
OND, King  of  France,  the  matter  grew  very  serious.  For, 
the  young  couple  styled  themselves  King  and  Queen  of  Eng- 
land, and  the  Pope  was  disposed  to  help  them  by  doing  all 
the  mischief  he  could. 

Now,  the  reformed  religion,  under  the  guidance  of  a  stern 
and  powerful  preacher,  named  JOHN  KNOX,  and  other  such 
men,  had  been  making  fierce  progress  in  Scotland.  \It  was 
still  a  half  savage  countr}r,  where  there  was  a  great  deal  of 
murdering  and  rioting  continually  going  on  ;  and  the  Reform- 
ers, instead  of  reforming  those  evils  as  they  should  have 
done,  went  to  work  in  the  ferocious  old  Scottish  spirit,  la}'- 
ing  churches  and  chapels  waste,  pulling  down  pictures  and 
altars,  and  knocking  about  the  Grey  Friars,  and  the  Black 
Friars,  and  the  White  Friars,  and  the  friars  of  all  sorts  of 
colors,  in  all  directions.  This  obdurate  and  harsh  spirit  of 
the  Scottish  Reformers  (the  Scotch  have  always  been  rather 
a  sullen  and  frowning  people  in  religious  matters)  put  up  the 
blood  of  the  Romish  French  court,  and  caused  France  to  send 
troops  over  to  Scotland,  with  the  hope  of  setting  the  friars  of 


332  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

all  sorts  of  colors  on  their  legs  again ;  of  conquering  that 
country  first,  and  England  afterwards  ;  and  so  crushing  the 
Reformation  all  to  pieces.  The  Scottish  Reformers,  who  had 
formed  a  great  league  which  they  called  The  Congregation  of 
the  Lord,  secretly  represented  to  Elizabeth  that,  if  the  re- 
formed religion  got  the  worst  of  it  with  them,  it  would  be 
likely  to  get  the  worst  of  it  in  England  too.  And  thus  Eliza- 
beth, though  she  had  a  high  notion  of  the  rights  of  Kings  and 
Queens  to  do  anything  they  liked,  sent  an  army  to  Scotland 
to  support  the  Reformers,  who  were  in  arms  against  their 
sovereign.  All  these  proceedings  led  to  a  treat}-  of  peace 
at  Edinburgh,  under  which  the  French  consented  to  depart 
from  the  kingdom.  By  a  separate  treaty,  Mary  and  her  young 
husband  engaged  to  renounce  their  assumed  title  of  King 
and  Queen  of  England.  But  this  treaty  they  never  ful- 
filled. 

It  happened,  soon  after  matters  had  got  to  this  state,  that 
the  3roung  French  King  died,  leaving  Mary  a  young  widow. 
She  was  then  invited  by  her  Scottish  subjects  to  return  home 
and  reign  over  them  ;  and  as  she  was  not  now  happy  where 
she  was,  she,  after  a  little  time,  complied. 

Elizabeth  had  been  Queen  three  years,  when  Mary  Queen 
of  Scots  embarked  at  Calais  for  her  own  rough  quarrelling 
country.  As  she  came  out  of  the  harbor,  a  vessel  was  lost 
before  her  eyes,  and  she  said,  "O!  good  God!  what  an 
omen  this  is  for  such  a  vo3~age !  "  She  was  very  fond  of 
France,  and  sat  on  the  deck,  looking  back  at  it  and  weeping, 
until  it  was  quite  dark.  When  she  went  to  bed,  she  directed 
to  be  called  at  da}-break,  if  the  French  coast  were  still  visible, 
that  she  might  behold  it  for  the  last  time.  As  it  proved  to 
be  a  clear  morning,  this  was  done,  and  she  again  wept  for 
the  country  she  was  leaving,  and  said  many  times,  "Fare- 
well, France !  Farewell,  France !  I  shall  never  see  thee 
again ! "  All  this  was  long  remembered  afterwards  as  sor- 
rowful and  interesting  in  a  fair  young  princess  of  nineteen. 
Indeed,  I  am  afraid  it  gradually  came,  together  with  her 


ELIZABETH.  333 

other  distresses,  to  surround  her  with  greater  sympathy  than 
she  deserved. 

When  she  came  to  Scotland,  and  took  up  her  abode  at  the 
palace  of  Holyrood  in  Edinburgh,  she  found  herself  among 
uncouth  strangers  and  wild  uncomfortable  customs  very  dif- 
ferent from  her  experiences  in  the  Court  of  France.  The 
very  people  who  were  disposed  to  love  her,  made  her  head 
ache  when  she  was  tired  out  by  her  vo}rage,  with  a  serenade 
of  discordant  music — a  fearful  concert  of  bagpipes,  I  sup- 
pose —  and  brought  her  and  her  train  home  to  her  palace  on 
miserable  little  Scotch  horses  that  appeared  to  be  half  starved. 
Among  the  people  who  were  not  disposed  to  love  her,  she 
found  the  powerful  leaders  of  the  Reformed  Church,  who 
were  bitter  upon  her  amusements,  however  innocent,  and 
denounced  music  and  dancing  as  works  of  the  devil.  John 
Knox  himself  often  lectured  her,  violently  and  angrily,  and 
did  much  to  make  her  life  unhappy.  All  these  reasons  con- 
firmed her  old  attachment  to  the  Romish  religion,  and  caused 
her,  there  is  no  doubt,  most  imprudently  and  dangerously 
both  for  herself  and  for  England  too,  to  give  a  solemn  pledge 
to  the  heads  of  the  Romish  Church  that  if  she  ever  succeeded 
to  the  English  crown,  she  would  set  up  that  religion  again. 
In  reading  her  unhappy  history,  you  must  always  remember 
this  ;  and  also  that  during  her  whole  life  she  was  constantly 
put  forward  against  the  Queen,  in  some  form  or  other,  by 
the  Romish  party. 

That  Elizabeth,  on  the  other  hand,  was  not  inclined  to  like 
her,  is  pretty  certain.  Elizabeth  was  very  vain  and  jealous, 
and  had  an  extraordinary  dislike  to  people  being  married. 
She  treated  Lady  Catherine  Grey,  sister  of  the  beheaded 
Lady  Jane,  with  such  shameful  severity,  for  no  other  reason 
than  her  being  secretly  married,  that  she  died  and  her  hus- 
band was  ruined;  so,  when  a  second  marriage  for  Mary 
began  to  be  talked  about,  probably  Elizabeth  disliked  her 
more.  Not  that  Elizabeth  wanted  suitors  of  her  own,  for 
they  started  up  from  Spain,  Austria,  Sweden,  and  England. 


334  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

Her  English  lover  at  this  time,  and  one  whom  she  much 
favored  too,  was  LORD  ROBERT  DUDLEY,  Earl  of  Leicester  — 
himself  secretly  married  to  AMY  ROBSART,  the  daughter  of  an 
English  gentleman,  whom  he  was  strongly  suspected  of  caus- 
ing to  be  murdered,  down  at  his  country  seat,  Cum  nor  Hall 
in  Berkshire,  that  he  might  be  free  to  marry  the  Queen. 
Upon  this  story,  the  great  writer,  SIR  WALTER  SCOTT,  has 
founded  one  of  his  best  romances.  But  if  Elizabeth  knew 
how  to  lead  her  handsome  favorite  on,  for  her  own  vanity 
and  pleasure,  she  knew  how  to  stop  him  for  her  own  pride ; 
and  his  love,  and  all  the  other  proposals,  came  to  nothing. 
The  Queen  always  declared  in  good  set  speeches,  that  she 
would  never  be  married  at  all,  but  live  and  die  a  Maiden 
Queen.  It  was  a  very  pleasant  and  meritorious  declaration 
I  suppose ;  but  it  has  been  puffed  and  trumpeted  so  much, 
that  I  am  rather  tired  of  it  myself. 

Divers  princes  proposed  to  marry  Mary,  but  the  English 
court  had  reasons  for  being  jealous  of  them  all,  and  even 
proposed  as  a  matter  of  policy  that  she  should  marry  that 
very  Earl  of  Leicester  who  had  aspired  to  be  the  husband  of 
Elizabeth.  At  last,  LORD  DARNLEY,  son  of  the  Earl  of  Len- 
nox, and  himself  descended  from  the  Royal  Family  of  Scot- 
land, went  over  with  Elizabeth's  consent  to  try  his  fortune  at 
Hobyrood.  He  was  a  tall  simpleton ;  and  could  dance  and 
play  the  guitar ;  but  I  know  of  nothing  else  he  could  do, 
unless  it  were  to  get  drunk,  and  eat  gluttonously,  and  make 
a  contemptible  spectacle  of  himself  in  many  mean  and  vain 
wa}rs.  However,  he  gained  Mary's  heart,  not  disdaining  in 
the  pursuit  of  his  object  to  ally  himself  with  one  of  her  secre- 
taries, DAVID  RIZZIO,  who  had  great  influence  with  her.  He 
soon  married  the  Queen.  This  marriage  does  not  say  much 
for  her,  but  what  followed  will  presently  say  less. 

Mary's  brother,  the  EARL  OF  MURRAY,  and  head  of  the 
Protestant  party  in  Scotland,  had  opposed  this  marriage, 
partly  on  religious  grounds,  and  partly  perhaps  from  per- 
sonal dislike  of  the  very  contemptible  bridegroom.  When  it 


ELIZABETH.  335 

had  taken  place,  through  Mary's  gaining  over  to  it  the  more 
powerful  of  the  lords  about  her,  she  banished  Murray  for  his 
pains  ;  and,  when  he  and  some  other  nobles  rose  in  arms  to 
support  the  reformed  religion,  she  herself,  within  a  month  of 
her  wedding  day,  rode  against  them  in  armor  with  loaded 
pistols  in  her  saddle.  Driven  out  of  Scotland,  they  presented 
themselves  before  Elizabeth  —  who  called  them  traitors  in 
public,  and  assisted  them  in  private,  according  to  her  crafty 
nature. 

Mary  had  been  married  but  a  little  while,  when  she  began 
to  hate  her  husband,  who,  in  his  turn,  began  to  hate  that 
David  Rizzio,  with  whom  he  had  leagued  to  gain  her  favor, 
and  whom  he  now  believed  to  be  her  lover.  He  hated 
Rizzio  to  that  extent,  that  he  made  a  compact  with  LORD 
RUTHVEN  and  three  other  lords  to  get  rid  of  him  by  murder. 
This  wicked  agreement  they  made  in  solemn  secrecy  upon 
the  first  of  March,  fifteen  hundred  and  sixty-six,  and  on  the 
night  of  Saturday  the  ninth,  the  conspirators  were  brought  by 
Darnley  up  a  private  staircase,  dark  and  steep,  into  a  range 
of  rooms  where  they  knew  that  Mary  was  sitting  at  supper 
with  her  sister,  LacVy  Argyle,  and  this  doomed  man.  When 
they  went  into  the  room,  Darnley  took  the  Queen  round  the 
waist,  and  Lord  Ruthven,  who  had  risen  from  a  bed  of  sick- 
ness to  do  this  murder,  came  in,  gaunt  and  ghastly,  leaning 
on  two  men.  Rizzio  ran  behind  the  Queen  for  shelter  and 
protection.  "  Let  him  come  out  of  the  room,"  said  Ruthven. 
"  He  shall  not  leave  the  room,"  replied  the  Queen;  "I  read 
his  danger  in  }Tour  face,  and  it  is  my  will  that  he  remain 
here."  They  then  set  upon  him,  struggled  with  him,  over- 
turned the  table,  dragged  him  out,  and  killed  him  with  fifty- 
six  stabs.  When  the  Queen  heard  that  he  was  dead,  she 
said,  "  No  more  tears.  I  will  think  now  of  revenge  !  " 

Within  a  day  or  two,  she  gained  her  husband  over,  and 
prevailed  on  the  tall  idiot  to  abandon  the  conspirators  and 
fly  with  her  to  D unbar.  There,  he  issued  a  proclamation, 
audaciously  and  falsely  denying  that  he  had  any  knowledge 


336  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

of  the  late  bloody  business ;  and  there  they  were  joined  by 
the  EARL  BOTHWELL  and  some  other  nobles.  With  their 
help,  they  raised  eight  thousand  men,  returned  to  Edinburgh, 
and  drove  the  assassins  into  England.  Mary  soon  afterwards 
gave  birth  to  a  son  —  still  thinking  of  revenge. 

That  she  should  have  had  a  greater  scorn  for  her  husband 
after  his  late  cowardice  and  treachery  than  she  had  had 
before,  was  natural  enough.  There  is  little  doubt  that  she 
now  began  to  love  Bothwell  instead,  and  to  plan  with  him 
means  of  getting  rid  of  Darnley.  Bothwell  had  such  power 
over  her  that  he  induced  her  even  to  pardon  the  assassins  of 
Rizzio.  The  arrangements  for  the  christening  of  the  }'oung 
Prince  were  entrusted  to  him,  and  he  was  one  of  the  most 
important  people  at  the  ceremony,  where  the  child  was  named 
JAMES  :  Elizabeth  being  his  godmother,  though  not  present 
on  the  occasion.  A  week  afterwards,  Darnley,  who  had  left 
Mary  and  gone  to  his  father's  house  at  Glasgow,  being  taken 
ill  with  the  small-pox,  she  sent  her  own  physician  to  attend 
him.  But  there  is  reason  to  apprehend  that  this  was  merely  a 
show  and  a  pretence,  and  that  she  knew  what  was  doing,  when 
Bothwell  within  another  month  proposed  to  one  of  the  late 
conspirators  against  Rizzio,  to  murder  Darnley,  "  for  that 
it  was  the  Queen's  mind  that  he  should  be  taken  away."  It 
is  certain  that  on  that  ver}'  day  she  wrote  to  her  ambassador 
in  France,  complaining  of  him,  and  yet  went  immediately  to 
Glasgow,  feigning  to  be  ver}'  anxious  about  him,  and  to  love 
him  very  much.  If  she  wanted  to  get  him  in  her  power,  she 
succeeded  to  her  heart's  content ;  for  she  induced  him  to  go 
back  with  her  to  Edinburgh,  and  to  occupy,  instead  of  the 
palace,  a  lone  house  outside  the  cit}r  called  the  Kirk  of  Field. 
Here,  he  lived  for  about  a  week.  One  Sunday  night,  she 
remained  with  him  until  ten  o'clock,  and  then  left  him,  to  go 
to  Holyrood  to  be  present  at  an  entertainment  given  in  cele- 
bration of  the  marriage  of  one  of  her  favorite  servants.  At 
two  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  city  was  shaken  by  a  great 
explosion,  and  the  Kirk  of  Field  was  blown  to  atoms. 


ELIZABETH.  337 

Darnley's  body  was  found  next  day  tying  under  a  tree  at 
some  distance.  How  it  came  there,  undisfigured  and  un- 
scorched  by  gunpowder,  and  how  this  crime  came  to  be  so 
clumsity  and  strangely  committed,  it  is  impossible  to  dis- 
cover. The  deceitful  character  of  Mary,  and  the  deceitful 
character  of  Elizabeth,  have  rendered  almost  eveiy  part  of 
their  joint  history  uncertain  and  obscure.)  But,  I  fear  that 
Mary  was  unquestionably  a  party  to  her  husband's  murder, 
and  that  this  was  the  revenge  she  had  threatened.  The 
Scotch  people  universally  believed  it.  Voices  cried  out  in 
the  streets  of  Edinburgh  in  the  dead  of  the  night,  for  justice 
on  the  murderess.  Placards  were  posted  by  unknown  hands 
in  the  public  places  denouncing  Bothwell  as  the  murderer, 
and  the  Queen  as  his  accomplice ;  and,  when  he  afterwards 
married  her  (though  himself  already  married),  previously 
making  a  show  of  taking  her  prisoner  by  force,  the  indigna- 
tion of  the  people  knew  no  bounds.  The  women  particularly 
are  described  as  having  been  quite  frantic  against  the  Queen, 
and  to  have  hooted  and  cried  after  her  in  the  streets  with 
terrific  vehemence. 

Such  guilty  unions  seldom  prosper.  This  husband  and 
wife  had  lived  together  but  a  month,  when  they  were  sepa- 
rated for  ever  by  the  successes  of  a  band  of  Scotch  nobles  who 
associated  against  them  for  the  protection  of  the  young  Prince : 
whom  Bothwell  had  vainly  endeavored  to  lay  hold  of,  and 
whom  he  would  certainty  have  murdered,  if  the  EARL  OF  MAR, 
in  whose  hands  the  boy  was,  had  not  been  firmly  and  honor- 
ably faithful  to  his  trust.  Before  this  angry  power,  Bothwell 
fled  abroad,  where  he  died,  a  prisoner  and  mad,  nine  miser- 
able years  afterwards.  Maiy  being  found  by  the  associated 
lords  to  deceive  them  at  every  turn,  was  sent  a  prisoner  to 
Lochleven  Castle  ;  which,  as  it  stood  in  the  midst  of  a  lake, 
could  only  be  approached  ~by  boat.  Here,  one  LORD  LIND- 
SAY, who  was  so  much  of  a  brute  that  the  nobles  would  have 
done  better  if  the}'  had  chosen  a  mere  gentleman  for  their 
messenger,  made  her  sign  her  abdication,  and  appoint  Murray, 

22 


338  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

Regent  of  Scotland.  Here,  too,  Murray  saw  her  in  a  sorrow- 
ing and  humbled  state. 

She  had  better  have  remained  in  the  castle  of  Lochleven, 
dull  prison  as  it  was,  with  the  rippling  of  the  lake  against  it, 
and  the  moving  shadows  of  the  water  on  the  room-walls  ;  but 
she  could  not  rest  there,  and  more  than  once  tried  to  escape. 
The  first  time  she  had  nearby  succeeded,  dressed  in  the  clothes 
of  her  own  washerwoman,  but,  putting  up  her  hand  to  prevent 
one  of  the  boatmen  from  lifting  her  veil,  the  men  suspected 
her,  seeing  how  white  it  was,  and  rowed  her  back  again.  A 
short  time  afterwards,  her  fascinating  manners  enlisted  in  her 
cause  a  boy  in  the  Castle,  called  the  little  DOUGLAS,  who, 
while  the  famity  were  at  supper,  stole  the  keys  of  the  great 
gate,  went  softly  out  with  the  Queen,  locked  the  gate  on  the 
outside,  and  rowed  her  awajr  across  the  lake,  sinking  the  keys 
as  they  went  along.  On  the  opposite  shore  she  was  met  by 
another  Douglas,  and  some  few  lords  ;  and,  so  accompanied, 
rode  away  on  horseback  to  Hamilton,  where  they  raised  three 
thousand  men.  Here,  she  issued  a  proclamation  declaring 
that  the  abdication  she  had  signed  in  her  prison  was  illegal, 
and  requiring  the  Regent  to  yield  to  his  lawful  Queen.  Being 
a  steady  soldier,  and  in  no  way  discomposed  although  he  was 
without  an  army,  Murray  pretended  to  treat  with  her,  until 
he  had  collected  a  force  about  half  equal  to  her  own,  and  then 
he  gave  her  battle.  In  one  quarter  of  an  hour  he  cut  down 
all  her  hopes.  She  had  another  weary  ride  on  horseback  of 
sixty  long  Scotch  miles,  and  took  shelter  at  Dundrennan 
Abbey,  whence  she  fled  for  safet}T  to  Elizabeth's  dominions. 

Mary  Queen  of  Scots  came  to  England  —  to  her  own  ruin, 
the  trouble  of  the  kingdom,  and  the  miser}7  and  death  of  many 
—  in  the  year  one  thousand  five  hundred  and  sixty-eight. 
How  she  left  it  and  the  world,  nineteen  years  afterwards,  we 
have  now  to  see. 


ELIZABETH.  339 

SECOND  PAKT. 

WHEN  Mary  Queen  of  Scots  arrived  in  England,  without 
money  and  even  without  any  other  clothes  than  those  she 
wore,  she  wrote  to  Elizabeth,  representing  herself  as  an  inno- 
cent and  injured  piece  of  Royalty,  and  entreating  her  assist- 
ance to  oblige  her  Scottish  subjects  to  take  her  back  again 
and  obey  her.  But,  as  her  character  was  already  known  in 
England  to  be  a  very  different  one  from  what  she  made  it  out 
to  be,  she  was  told  in  answer  that  she  must  first  clear  herself. 
Made  uneasy  by  this  condition,  Mary,  rather  than  stay  in 
England,  would  have  gone  to  Spain,  or  to  France,  or  would 
even  have  gone  back  to  Scotland.  But,  as  her  doing  either 
would  have  been  likely  to  trouble  England  afresh,  it  was  de- 
cided that  she  should  be  detained  here.  She  first  came  to 
Carlisle,  and,  after  that,  was  moved  about  from  castle  to 
castle,  as  was  considered  necessary ;  but  England  she  never 
left  again. 

After  trying  very  hard  to  get  rid  of  the  necessit}'  of  clear- 
ing herself,  Marj^,  advised  by  LORD  HER'RIES,  her  best  friend 
in  England,  agreed  to  answer  the  charges  against  her,  if  the 
Scottish  noblemen  who  made  them  would  attend  to  maintain 
them  before  such  English  noblemen  as  Elizabeth  might  ap- 
point for  that  purpose.  Accordingly,  such  an  assembly, 
under  the  name  of  a  conference,  met,  first  at  York,  and  after- 
wards at  Hampton  Court.  In  its  presence  Lord  Lennox, 
Darnley's  father,  openly  charged  Mary  with  the  murder  of 
his  son  ;  and  whatever  Mary's  friends  may  now  say  or  write 
in  her  behalf,  there  is  no  doubt  that,  when  her  brother  Murray 
produced  against  her  a  casket  containing  certain  guilty  letters 
and  verses  which  he  stated  to  have  passed  between  her  and 
Bothwell,  she  withdrew  from  the  inquiry.  Consequently,  it 
is  to  be  supposed  that  she  was  then  considered  guilty  by  those 
who  had  the  best  opportunities  of  judging  of  the  truth,  and 
that  the  feeling  which  afterwards  arose  in  her  behalf  was  a 
very  generous  but  not  a  very  reasonable  one. 


340  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

However,  the  DUKE  OF  NORFOLK,  an  honorable  but  rather 
weak  nobleman,  partly  because  Mary  was  captivating,  partly 
because  he  was  ambitious,  parti}"  because  he  was  over-per- 
suaded by  artful  plotters  against  Elizabeth,  conceived  a  strong 
idea  that  he  would  like  to  marry  the  Queen  of  Scots  —  though 
he  was  a  little  frightened,  too,  by  the  letters  in  the  casket. 
This  idea  being  secretly  encouraged  by  some  of  the  noblemen 
of  Elizabeth's  court,  and  even  by  the  favorite  Earl  of  Leicester 
(because  it  was  objected  to  by  other  favorites  who  were  his 
rivals),  Mary  expressed  her  approval  of  it,  and  the  King  of 
France  and  the  King  of  Spain  are  supposed  to  have  done  the 
same.  It  was  not  so  quietly  planned,  though,  but  that  it 
came  to  Elizabeth's  ears,  who  warned  the  Duke  "  to  be  care- 
ful what  sort  of  pillow  he  was  going  to  la}'  his  head  upon." 
He  made  a  humble  reply  at  the  time ;  but  turned  sulk}-  soon 
afterwards,  and,  being  considered  dangerous,  was  sent  to  the 
Tower. 

Thus,  from  the  moment  of  Mary's  coming  to  England  she 
began  to  be  the  centre  of  plots  and  miseries. 

A  rise  of  the  Catholics  in  the  north  was  the  next  of  these, 
and  it  was  only  checked  by  many  executions  and  much  blood- 
shed. It  was  followed  by  a  great  conspiracy  of  the  Pope  and 
some  of  the  Catholic  sovereigns  of  Europe  to  depose  Elizabeth, 
place  Mary  on  the  throne,  and  restore  the  unreformed  religion. 
It  is  almost  impossible  to  doubt  that  Mary  knew  and  approved 
of  this ;  and  the  Pope  himself  was  so  hot  in  the  matter  that 
he  issued  a  bull,  in  which  he  openly  called  Elizabeth  the 
"pretended  Queen"  of  England,  excommunicated  her,  and 
excommunicated  all  her  subjects  who  should  continue  to  obey 
her.  A  copy  of  this  miserable  paper  got  into  London,  and 
was  found  one  morning  publicly  posted  on  the  Bishop  of  Lon- 
don's gate.  A  great  hue  and  cry  being  raised,  another  copy 
was  found  in  the  chamber  of  a  student  of  Lincoln's  Inn,  AV!IO 
confessed,  being  put  upon  the  rack,  that  he  had  received  it 
from  one  JOHN  FELTON,  a  rich  gentleman  who  lived  across 
the  Thames,  near  Southwark.  This  John  Felton,  being  put 


ELIZABETH.  341 

upon  the  rack  too,  confessed  that  he  had  posted  the  placard 
on  the  Bishop's  gate.  For  this  offence  he  was,  within  four 
days,  taken  to  St.  Paul's  Churchyard,  and  there  hanged  and 
quartered.  As  to  the  Pope's  bull,  the  people  by  the  refor- 
mation having  thrown  off  the  Pope,  did  not  care  much,  you 
may  suppose,  for  the  Pope's  throwing  off  th'em.  It  was  a 
mere  dirty  piece  of  paper,  and  not  half  so  powerful  as  a  street 
ballad. 

On  the  very  day  when  Felton  was  brought  to  his  trial,  the 
poor  Duke  of  Norfolk  was  released.  It  would  have  been  well 
for  him  had  he  kept  away  from  the  Tower  evermore,  and 
from  the  snares  that  had  taken  him  there.  But,  even  while 
he  was  in  that  dismal  place  he  corresponded  with  Mary,  and 
as  soon  as  he  was  out  of  it,  he  began  to  plot  again.  Being 
discovered  in  correspondence  with  the  Pope,  with  a  view  to  a 
rising  in  England  which  should  force  Elizabeth  to  consent  to 
his  marriage  with  Mar}-  and  to  repeal  the  laws  against  the 
Catholics,  he  was  recommitted  to  the  Tower  and  brought  to 
trial.  He  was  found  guilt}'  by  the  unanimous  verdict  of  the 
Lords  who  tried  him,  and  was  sentenced  to  the  block. 

It  is  very  difficult  to  make  out,  at  this  distance  of  time,  and 
between  opposite  accounts,  whether  Elizabeth  really  was  a 
humane  woman,  or  desired  to  appear  so,  or  was  fearful  of 
shedding  the  blood  of  people  of  great  name  who  were  popular 
in  the  country.  Twice  she  commanded  and  countermanded 
the  execution  of  this  Duke,  and  it  did  not  take  place  until 
five  months  after  his  trial.  The  scaffold  was  erected  on 
Tower  Hill,  and  there  he  died  like  a  brave  man.  He  refused 
to  have  his  eyes  bandaged,  saj'ing  that  he  was  not  at  all 
afraid  of  death ;  and  he  admitted  the  justice  of  his  sentence, 
and  was  much  regretted  by  the  people. 

Although  Mary  had  shrunk  at  the  most  important  time 
from  disproving  her  guilt,  she  was  very  careful  never  to  do 
anything  that  would  admit  it.  All  such  proposals  as  were 
made  to  her  by  Elizabeth  for  her  release,  required  that  admis- 
sion in  some  form  or  other,  and  therefore  came  to  nothing. 


342  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

Moreover,  both  women  being  artful  and  treacherous,  and 
neither  ever  trusting  the  other,  it  was  not  likely  that  they 
could  ever  make  an  agreement.  So,  the  Parliament,  aggra- 
vated b}-  what  the  Pope  had  done,  made  new  and  strong  laws 
against  the  spreading  of  the  Catholic  religion  in  England, 
and  declared  it  treason  in  any  one  to  say  that  the  Queen  and 
her  successors  were  not  the  lawful  sovereigns  of  England. 
It  would  have  clone  more  than  this,  but  for  Elizabeth's  mod- 
eration. 

Since  the  Reformation,  there  had  come  to  be  three  great 
sects  of  religious  people  —  or  people  who  called  themselves 
so  —  in  England ;  that  is  to  say,  those  who  belonged  to  the 
Reformed  Church,  those  who  belonged  to  the  Unreformed 
Church,  and  those  who  were  called  the  Puritans,  because  they 
said  that  they  wanted  to  have  everything  very  pure  and  plain 
in  all  the  Church  service.  These  last  were  for  the  most  part 
an  uncomfortable  people,  who  thought  it  highly  meritorious 
to  dress  in  a  hideous  manner,  talk  through  their  noses,  and 
oppose  all  harmless  enjoj-ments.  But  they  were  powerful 
top,  and  ver}r  much  in  earnest,  and  they  were  one  and  all  the 
determined  enemies  of  the  Queen  of  Scots.  The  Protestant 
feeling  in  England  was  further  strengthened  by  the  tremen- 
dous cruelties  to  which  Protestants  were  exposed  in  France 
and  in  the  Netherlands.  Scores  of  thousands  of  them  were 
put  to  death  in  those  countries  with  ever}-  cruelty  that  can  be 
imagined,  and  at  last,  in  the  autumn  of  the  year  one  thou- 
sand five  hundred  and  seventy-two,  one  of  the  greatest  bar- 
barities ever  committed  in  the  world  took  place  at  Paris. 

It  is  called  in  history,  THE  MASSACRE  OF  SAINT  BARTHOL- 
OMEW, because  it  took  place  on  Saint  Bartholomew's  Eve. 
The  day  fell  on  Saturday  the  twenty-third  of  August.  On  that 
dajr  all  the  great  leaders  of  the  Protestants  (who  were  there 
called  HUGUENOTS)  were  assembled  together,  for  the  purpose, 
as  was  represented  to  them,  of  doing  honor  to  the  marriage 
of  their  chief,  the  young  King  of  Navarre,  with  the  sister  of 
CHARLES  THE  NINTH  :  a  miserable  young  King  who  then 


ELIZABETH.  343 

occupied  the  French  throne.  This  dull  creature  was  made  to 
believe  by  his  mother  and  other  fierce  Catholics  about  him 
that  the  Huguenots  meant  to  take  his  life  ;  and  he  was  per- 
suaded to  give  secret  orders  that,  on  the  tolling  of  a  great 
bell,  they  should  be  fallen  upon  by  an  overpowering  force  of 
armed  men,  and  slaughtered  wherever  they  could  be  found. 
When  the  appointed  hour  was  close  at  hand,  the  stupid 
wretch,  trembling  from  head  to  foot,  was  taken  into  a  balcony 
by  his  mother  to  see  the  atrocious  work  begun.  The  moment 
the  bell  tolled,  the  murderers  broke  forth.  During  all  that 
night  and  the  two  next  days,  the}-  broke  into  the  houses, 
fired  the  houses,  shot  and  stabbed  the  Protestants,  men, 
women,  and  children,  and  flung  their  bodies  into  the  streets. 
They  were  shot  at  in  the  streets  as  they  passed  along,  and 
their  blood  ran  down  the  gutters.  Upwards  of  ten  thousand 
Protestants  were  killed  in  Paris  alone  ;  in  all  France  four  or 
five  times  that  number.  To  return  thanks  to  Heaven  for 
these  diabolical  murders,  the  Pope  and  hTs  train  actually 
went  in  public  procession  at  Rome,  and  as  if  this  were  not 
shame  enough  for  them,  the}'  had  a  medal  struck  to  com- 
memorate the  event.  But,  however  comfortable  the  whole- 
sale murders  were  to  these  high  authorities,  they  had  not  that 
soothing  effect  upon  the  doll-King.  I  am  happy  to  state  that 
he  never  knew  a  moment's  peace  afterwards ;  that  he  was 
continually  crying  out  that  he  saw  the  Huguenots  covered 
with  blood  and  wounds  falling  dead  before  him  ;  and  that  he 
died  within  a  year,  shrieking  and  yelling  and  raving  to  that 
degree,  that  if  all  the  Popes  who  had  ever  lived  had  been 
rolled  into  one,  they  would  not  have  afforded  His  guilty 
Majesty  the  slightest  consolation. 

When  the  terrible  news  of  the  massacre  arrived  in  Eng- 
land, it  made  a  powerful  impression  indeed  upon  the  people. 
If  they  began  to  run  a  little  wild  against  the  Catholics  at 
about  this  time,  this  fearful  reason  for  it,  coming  so  soon 
after  the  days  of  bloody  Queen  Mary,  must  be  remembered 
in  their  excuse.  The  Court  was  not  quite  so  honest  as  the 


344  A  CHILD'S   HISTOEY  OF  ENGLAND. 

people  —  but  perhaps  it  sometimes  is  not.  It  received  the 
French  ambassador,  with  all  the  lords  and  ladies  dressed  in 
deep  mourning,  and  keeping  a  profound  silence.  Never- 
theless, a  proposal  of  marriage  which  he  had  made  to  Eliza- 
beth only  two  days  before  the  eve  of  Saint  Bartholomew,  on 
behalf  of  the  Duke  of  Alengon,  the  French  King's  brother, 
a  boy  of  seventeen,  still  went  on ;  while  on  the  other  hand, 
in  her  usual  crafty  way,  the  Queen  secretly  supplied  the 
Huguenots  with  money  and  weapons. 

I  must  say  that  for  a  Queen  who  made  all  those  fine  speeches, 
of  which  I  have  confessed  myself  to  be  rather  tired,  about 
living  and  dying  a  Maiden  Queen,  Elizabeth  was  "going" 
to  be  married  pretty  often.  Besides  always  having  some 
English  favorite  or  other  whom  she  b}'  turns  encouraged 
and  swore  at  and  knocked  about  —  for  the  maiden  Queen 
was  very  free  with  her  fists  —  she  held  this  French  Duke 
off  and  on  through  several  years.  When  he  at  last  came 
over  to  England,  the  marriage  articles  were  actually  drawn 
up,  and  it  was  settled  that  the  wedding  should  take  place 
in  six  weeks.  The  Queen  was  then  so  bent  upon  it,  that 
she  prosecuted  a  poor  Puritan  named  STUBBS,  and  a  poor 
bookseller  named  PAGE,  for  writing  and  publishing  a  pam- 
phlet against  it.  Their  right  hands  were  chopped  off  for  this 
crime ;  and  poor  Stubbs  —  more  loyal  than  I  should  have 
been  nryself  under  the  circumstances  —  immediately  pulled 
off  his  hat  with  his  left  hand,  and  cried,  "God  save  the 
Queen  !  "  Stubbs  was  cruelly  treated  ;  for  the  marriage  never 
took  place  after  all,  though  the  Queen  pledged  herself  to  the 
Duke  with  a  ring  from  her  own  finger.  He  went  away,  no 
better  than  he  came,  when  the  courtship  had  lasted  some  ten 
years  altogether ;  and  he  died  a  couple  of  years  afterwards, 
mourned  by  Elizabeth,  who  appears  to  have  been  really  fond 
of  him.  It  is  not  much  to  her  credit,  for  he  was  a  bad 
enough  member  of  a  bad  family. 

To  return  to  the  Catholics.  There  arose  two  orders  of 
priests,  who  were  very  busy  in  England,  and  who  were  much 


ELIZABETH.  345 

dreaded.  These  were  the  JESUITS  (who  were  everywhere  in 
all  sorts  of  disguises),  and  the  SEMINARY  PRIESTS.  The 
people  had  a  great  horror  of  the  first,  because  they  were 
known  to  have  taught  that  murder  was  lawful  if  it  were  done 
with  an  object  of  which  they  approved  ;  and  they  had  a  great 
horror  of  the  second,  because  they  came  to  teach  the  old 
religion,  and  to  be  the  successors  of  "  Queen  Mary's  priests," 
as  those  yet  lingering  in  England  were  called,  when  they 
should  die  out.  The  severest  laws  were  made  against 
them,  and  were  most  unmercifully  executed.  Those  who 
sheltered  them  in  their  houses  often  suffered  heavily  for  what 
was  an  act  of  humanity ;  and  the  rack,  that  cruel  torture 
which  tore  men's  limbs  asunder,  was  constantly  kept  going. 
What  these  unhappy  men  confessed,  or  what  was  ever  con- 
fessed by  any  one  under  that  agony,  must  always  be  received 
with  great  doubt,  as  it  is  certain  that  people  have  frequently 
owned  to  the  most  absurd  and  impossible  crimes  to  escape 
such  dreadful  suffering.  But  I  cannot  doubt  it  to  have  been 
proved  by  papers,  that  there  were  many  plots,  both  among 
the  Jesuits,  and  with  France,  and  with  Scotland,  and  with 
Spain,  for  the  destruction  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  for  the 
placing  of  Mary  on  the  throne,  and  for  the  revival  of  the  old 
religion. 

If  the  English  people  were  too  ready  to  believe  in  plots, 
there  were,  as  I  have  said,  good  reasons  for  it.  When  the 
massacre  of  Saint  Bartholomew  was  yet  fresh  in  their  recol- 
lection, a  great  Protestant  Dutch  hero,  the  PRINCE  OP 
ORANGE,  was  shot  by  an  assassin,  who  confessed  that  he 
had  been  kept  and  trained  for  the  purpose  in  a  college  of 
Jesuits.  The  Dutch,  in  this  surprise  and  distress,  offered  to 
make  Elizabeth  their  sovereign,  but  she  declined  the  honor, 
and  sent  them  a  small  arnry  instead,  under  the  command  of 
the  Earl  of  Leicester,  who,  although  a  capital  court  favorite, 
was  not  much  of  a  general.  He  did  so  little  in  Holland,  that 
his  campaign  there  would  probably  have  been  forgotten,  but 
for  its  occasioning  the  death  of  one  of  the  best  writers,  the 


346  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

best  knights,  and  the  best  gentlemen  of  that  or  any  age.  This 
was  SIR  PHILIP  SIDNEY,  who  was  wounded  by  a  musket  ball 
in  the  thigh  as  he  mounted  a  fresh  horse,  after  having  had 
his  own  killed  under  him.  He  had  to  ride  back  wounded, 
a  long  distance,  and  was  very  faint  with  fatigue  and  loss  of 
blood,  when  some  water,  for  which  he  had  eagerly  asked, 
was  handed  to  him.  But  he  was  so  good  and  gentle  even 
then,  that  seeing  a  poor  badly  wounded  common  soldier 
lying  on  the  ground,  looking  at  the  water  with  longing  e3res, 
he  said,  "Thy  necessity  is  greater  than  mine,"  and  gave  it 
up  to  him.  This  touching  action  of  a  noble  heart  is  perhaps 
as  well  known  as  any  incident  in  history  —  is  as  famous  far 
and  wide  as  the  blood-stained  Tower  of  London,  with  its 
axe,  and  block,  and  murders  out  of  number.  So  delightful 
is  an  act  of  true  humanity,  and  so  glad  are  mankind  to 
remember  it. 

At  home,  intelligence  of  plots  began  to  thicken  ever}r  day. 
I  suppose  the  people  never  did  live  under  such  continual 
terrors  as  those  by  which  they  were  possessed  now,  of  Catho- 
lic risings,  and  burnings,  and  poisonings,  and  I  don't  know 
what.  Still,  we  must  always  remember  that  they  lived  near 
and  close  to  awful  realities  of  that  kind,  and  that  with  their 
experience  it  was  not  difficult  to  believe  in  any  enormity. 
The  government  had  the  same  fear,  and  did  not  take  the 
best  means  of  discovering  the  truth  —  for,  besides  torturing 
the  suspected,  it  employed  paid  spies,  who  will  always  lie  for 
their  own  profit.  It  even  made  some  of  the  conspiracies  it 
brought  to  light,  by  sending  false  letters  to  disaffected  peo- 
ple, inviting  them  to  join  in  pretended  plots,  which  they  too 
readily  did. 

But,  one  great  real  plot  was  at  length  discovered,  and  it 
ended  the  career  of  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots.  A  seminary 
priest  named  BALLARD,  and  a  Spanish  soldier  named  SAVAGE, 
set  on  and  encouraged  by  certain  French  priests,  imparted 
a  design  to  one  ANTONY  BABINGTON  —  a  gentleman  of  fortune 
in  Derbyshire,  who  had  been  for  some  time  a  secret  agent  of 


ELIZABETH.  347 

Mary's  —  for  murdering  the  Queen.  Babington  then  confided 
the  scheme  to  some  other  Catholic  gentlemen  who  were  his 
friends,  and  they  joined  in  it  heartily.  They  were  vain 
weak-headed  young  men,  ridiculously  confident,  and  prepos- 
terously proud  of  their  plan  ;  for  they  got  a  gimcrack  paint- 
ing made,  of  the  six  choice  spirits  who  were  to  murder 
Elizabeth,  with  Babington  in  an  attitude  for  the  centre  figure. 
Two  of  their  number,  however,  one  of  whom  was  a  priest, 
kept  Elizabeth's  wisest  minister,  SIR  FRANCIS  WALSINGIIAM, 
acquainted  with  the  whole  project  from  the  first.  The  con- 
spirators were  completely  deceived  to  the  final  point,  when 
Babington  gave  Savage,  because  he  was  shabby,  a  ring  from 
his  finger,  and  some  money  from  his  purse,  wherewith  to  buy 
himself  new  clothes  in  which  to  kill  the  Queen.  Walsing- 
ham,  having  then  full  evidence  against  the  whole  band,  and 
two  letters  of  Mary's  besides,  resolved  to  seize  them.  Sus- 
pecting something  wrong,  they  stole  out  of  the  city,  one  by 
one,  and  hid  themselves  in  St.  John's  Wood,  and  other 
places  which  i-eally  were  hiding  places  then  ;  but  they  were 
all  taken,  and  all  executed.  When  they  were  seized,  a  gen- 
tleman was  sent  from  Court  to  inform  Mary  of  the  fact, 
and  of  her  being  involved  in  the  discovery.  Her  friends 
have  complained  that  she  was  kept  in  very  hard  and  severe 
custody.  It  does  not  appear  very  likely,  for  she  was  going 
out  a  hunting  that  very  morning. 

Queen  Elizabeth  had  been  warned  long  ago,  by  one  in 
France  who  had  good  information  of  what  was  secretly  doing, 
that  in  holding  Mary  alive,  she  held  "  the  wolf  who  would 
devour  her."  The  Bishop  of  London  had,  more  lately,  given 
the  Queen's  favorite  minister  the  advice  in  writing,  "  forth- 
with to  cut  off  the  Scottish  Queen's  head."  The  question 
now  was,  what  to  do  with  her  ?  The  Earl  of  Leicester  wrote  a 
little  note  home  from  Holland,  recommending  that  she  should 
be  quietly  poisoned  ;  that  noble  favorite  having  accustomed  his 
mind,  it  is  possible,  to  remedies  of  that  nature.  His  black 
advice,  however,  was  disregarded,  and  she  was  brought  to 


348  A   CHILD'S  HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

trial  at  Fotheringay  Castle  in  Northamptonshire,  before  a 
tribunal  of  forty,  composed  of  both  religions.  There,  and 
in  the  Star  Chamber  at  Westminster,  the  trial  lasted  a  fort- 
night. She  defended  herself  with  great  ability,  but  could 
only  deny  the  confessions  that  had  been  made  by  Babington 
and  others  ;  could  only  call  her  own  letters,  produced  against 
her  by  her  own  secretaries,  forgeries ;  and,  in  short,  could 
only  deny  everything.  She  was  found  guilty,  and  declared 
to  have  incurred  the  penalty  of  death.  The  Parliament  met, 
approved  the  sentence,  and  pra}Ted  the  Queen  to  have  it  exe- 
cuted. The  Queen  replied  that  she  requested  them  to  con- 
sider whether  no  means  could  be  found  of  saving  Mary's  life 
without  endangering  her  own.  The  Parliament  rejoined,  No ; 
and  the  citizens  illuminated  their  houses  and  lighted  bonfires, 
in  token  of  their  joy  that  all  these  plots  and  troubles  were  to 
be  ended  by  the  death  of  the  Queen  of  Scots. 

She,  feeling  sure  that  her  time  was  now  come,  wrote  a  let- 
ter to  the  Queen  of  England,  making  three  entreaties ;  first, 
that  she  might  be  buried  in  France ;  secondly,  that  she  might 
not  be  executed  in  secret,  but  before  her  servants  and  some 
others  ;  thirdly,  that  after  her  death,  her  servants  should  not 
be  molested,  but  should  be  suffered  to  go  home  with  the  leg- 
acies she  left  them.  It  was  an  affecting  letter,  and  Elizabeth 
shed  tears  over  it,  but  sent  no  answer.  Then  came  a  special 
ambassador  from  France,  and  another  from  Scotland,  to  in- 
tercede for  Mary's  life  ;  and  then  the  nation  began  to  clamor, 
more  and  more,  for  her  death. 

What  the  real  feelings  or  intentions  of  Elizabeth  were,  can 
never  be  known  now ;  but  I  strongly  suspect  her  of  only 
wishing  one  thing  more  than  Mail's  death,  and  that  was  to 
keep  free  of  the  blame  of  it.  On  the  first  of  Februar}r,  one 
thousand  five  hundred  and  eight3r-seven,  Lord  Burleigh  hav- 
ing drawn  out  the  warrant  for  the  execution,  the  Queen  sent 
to  the  secretary  DAVISON  to  bring  it  to  her,  that  she  might 
sign  it :  which  she  did.  Next  day,  when  Davison  told  her 
it  was  sealed,  she  angrily  asked  him  why  such  haste  was 


ELIZABETH.  349 

necessary !  Next  day  but  one,  she  joked  about  it,  and  swore  a 
little.  Again,  next  day  but  one,  she  seemed  to  complain 
that  it  was  not  yet  done,  but  still  she  would  not  be  plain  with 
those  about  her.  So,  on  the  seventh,  the  Earls  of  Kent  and 
Shrewsbury,  with  the  Sheriff  of  Northamptonshire,  came  with 
the  warrant  to  Fotheringay,  to  tell  the  Queen  of  Scots  to  pre- 
pare for  death. 

When  those  messengers  of  ill  omen  were  gone,  Mary  made 
a  frugal  supper,  drank  to  her  servants,  read  over  her  will, 
went  to  bed,  slept  for  some  hours,  and  then  arose  and  passed 
the  remainder  of  the  night  saying  prayers.  In  the  morning 
she  dressed  herself  in  her  best  clothes  :  and,  at  eight  o'clock, 
when  the  sheriff  came  for  her  to  her  chapel,  took  leave  of  her 
servants  who  were  there  assembled  praying  with  her,  and 
went  down-stairs,  carrying  a  Bible  in  one  hand  and  a  cru- 
cifix in  the  other.  Two  of  her  women  and  four  of  her  men 
were  allowed  to  be  present  in  the  hall ;  where  a  low  scaffold, 
only  two  feet  from  the  ground,  was  erected  and  covered  with 
black :  and  where  the  executioner  from  the  Tower,  and  his 
assistant,  stood,  dressed  in  black  velvet.  The  hall  was  full 
of  people.  While  the  sentence  was  being  read  she  sat  upon 
a  stool ;  and,  when  it  was  finished,  she  again  denied  her  guilt, 
as  she  had  done  before.  The  Earl  of  Kent  and  the  Dean  of 
Peterborough,  in  their  Protestant  zeal,  made  some  very  un- 
necessary speeches  to  her :  to  which  she  replied  that  she  died 
in  the  Catholic  religion,  and  they  need  not  trouble  themselves 
about  that  matter.  When  her  head  and  neck  were  uncovered 
by  the  executioners,  she  said  that  she  had  not  been  used  to 
be  undressed  by  such  hands,  or  before  so  much  company.  Fi- 
nally, one  of  her  women  fastened  a  cloth  over  her  face,  and 
she  laid  her  neck  upon  the  block,  and  repeated  more  than 
once  in  Latin,  "  Into  thy  hands,  O  Lord,  I  commend  my 
spirit !  "  Some  say  her  head  was  struck  off  in  two  blows, 
some  say  in  three.  However  that  be,  when  it  was  held  up, 
streaming  with  blood,  the  real  hair  beneath  the  false  hair  she 
had  long  worn  was  seen  to  be  as  gray  as  that  of  a  woman  of 


350  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

seventy,  though  she  was  at  that  time  only  in  her  forty-sixth 
year.     All  her  beauty  was  gone. 

But  she  was  beautiful  enough  to  her  little  dog,  who  cow- 
ered under  her  dress,  frightened,  when  she  went  upon  the 
scaffold,  and  who  lay  down  beside  her  headless  body  when 
all  her  earthly  sorrows  were  over. 


THIRD  PART. 

ON  its  being  formally  made  known  to  Elizabeth  that  the 
sentence  had  been  executed  on  the  Queen  of  Scots,  she 
showed  the  utmost  grief  and  rage,  drove  her  favorites  from 
her  with  violent  indignation,  and  sent  Davison  to  the  Tower ; 
from  which  place  he  was  only  released  in  the  end  by  paying 
an  immense  fine  which  completely  ruined  him.  Elizabeth  not 
only  overacted  her  part  in  making  these  pretences,  but  most 
basely  reduced  to  poverty  one  of  her  faithful  servants  for  no 
other  fault  than  obeying  her  commands. 

James,  King  of  Scotland,  Mary's  son,  made  a  show  likewise 
of  being  ve^  angry  on  the  occasion ;  but  he  was  a  pensioner 
of  England  to  the  amount  of  five  thousand  pounds  a  year,  and 
he  had  known  very  little  of  his  mother,  and  he  possibly  re- 
garded her  as  the  murderer  of  his  father,  and  he  soon  took 
it  quietly. 

Philip,  King  of  Spain,  however,  threatened  to  do  greater 
things  than  ever  had  been  done  yet,  to  set  up  the  Catholic 
religion  and  punish  Protestant  England.  Elizabeth,  hearing 
that  he  and  the  Prince  of  Parma  were  making  great  prepara- 
tions for  this  purpose,  in  order  to  be  beforehand  with  them 
sent  out  ADMIRAL  DRAKE  (a  famous  navigator,  who  had 
sailed  about  the  world,  and  had  alread}T  brought  great  plun- 
der from  Spain)  to  the  port  of  Cadiz,  where  he  burnt  a 
hundred  vessels  full  of  stores.  This  great  loss  obliged  the 
Spaniards  to  put  off  the  invasion  for  a  year ;  but  it  was  none 


ELIZABETH.  351 

the  less  formidable  for  that,  amounting  to  one  hundred  and 
thirty  ships,  nineteen  thousand  soldiers,  eight  thousand  sail- 
ors, two  thousand  slaves,  and  between  two  and  three  thou- 
sand great  guns.  England  was  not  idle  in  making  ready  to 
resist  this  great  force.  All  the  men  between  sixteen  years 
old  and  sixty,  were  trained  and  drilled ;  the  national  fleet  of 
ships  (in  number  only  thirty-four  at  first)  was  enlarged  by 
public  contributions  and  by  private  ships,  fitted  out  by  noble- 
men ;  the  city  of  London,  of  its  own  accord,  furnished  double 
the  number  of  ships  and  men  that  it  was  required  to  provide  ; 
and,  if  ever  the  national  spirit  was  up  in  England,  it  was  up 
all  through  the  country  to  resist  the  Spaniards.  Some  of  the 
Queen's  advisers  were  for  seizing  the  principal  English  Cath- 
olics, and  putting  them  to  death ;  but  the  Queen  —  who  to 
her  honor,  used  to  sa}7,  that  she  would  never  believe  any  ill  of 
her  subjects,  which  a  parent  would  not  believe  of  her  own 
children  —  rejected  the  advice,  and  only  confined  a  few  of 
those  who  were  the  most  suspected,  in  the  fens  of  Lincolnshire. 
The  great  body  of  Catholics  deserved  this  confidence ;  for 
they  behaved  most  loyally,  nobly,  and  bravely. 

So,  with  all  England  firing  up  like  one  strong  angry  man, 
and  with  both  sides  of  the  Thames  fortified,  and  with  the 
soldiers  under  arms,  and  with  the  sailors  in  their  ships,  the 
country  waited  for  the  coming  of  the  proud  Spanish  fleet, 
which  was  called  THE  INVINCIBLE  ARMADA.  The  Queen  her- 
self, ridino-  in  armor  on  a  white  horse,  and  the  Earl  of  Essex, 

~ 

and  the  Earl  of  Leicester  holding  her  bridle  rein,  made  a 
brave  speech  to  the  troops  at  Tilbury  Fort  opposite  Graves- 
end,  which  was  received  with  such  enthusiasm  as  is  seldom 
known.  Then  came  the  Spanish  Armada  into  the  English 
Channel,  sailing  along  in  the  form  of  a  half  moon,  of  such 
great  size  that  it  was  seven  miles  broad.  But  the  English 
were  quickly  upon  it,  and  woe  then  to  all  the  Spanish  ships 
that  dropped  a  little  out  of  the  half  moon,  for  the  English 
took  them  instantly !  And  it  soon  appeared  that  the  great 
Armada  was  anything  but  invincible,  for  on  a  summer  night, 


352  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

bold  Drake  sent  eight  blazing  fire-ships  right  into  the  midst 
of  it.  In  terrible  consternation  the  Spaniards  tried  to  get 
out  to  sea,  and  so  became  dispersed ;  the  English  pursued 
them  at  a  great  advantage ;  a  storm  came  on,  and  drove  the 
Spaniards  among  rocks  and  shoals ;  and  the  swift  end  of  the 
Invincible  fleet  was,  that  it  lost  thirty  great  ships  and  ten 
thousand  men,  and,  defeated  and  disgraced,  sailed  home 
again.  Being  afraid  to  go  by  the  English  Channel,  it  sailed 
all  round  Scotland  and  Ireland ;  some  of  the  ships  getting 
cast  away  on  the  latter  coast  in  bad  weather,  the  Irish,  who 
were  a  kind  of  savages,  plundered  those  vessels  and  killed 
their  crews.  So  ended  this  great  attempt  to  invade  and  con- 
quer England.  And  I  think  it  will  be  a  long  time  before  any 
other  invincible  fleet  coming  to  England  with  the  same  object, 
will  fare  much  better  than  the  Spanish  Armada. 

Though  the  Spanish  king  had  had  this  bitter  taste  of  Eng- 
lish bravery,  he  was  so  little  the  wiser  for  it,  as  still  to  enter- 
tain his  old  designs,  and  even  to  conceive  the  absurd  idea  of 
placing  his  daughter  on  the  English  throne.  But  the  Earl  of 
Essex,  SIR  WALTER  RALEIGH,  SIR  THOMAS  HOWARD,  and 
some  other  distinguished  leaders,  put  to  sea  from  Plymouth, 
entered  the  port  of  Cadiz  once  more,  obtained  a  complete 
victory  over  the  shipping  assembled  there,  and  got  possession 
of  the  town.  In  obedience  to  the  Queen's  express  instruc- 
tions, the}'  behaved  with  great  humanity ;  and  the  principal 
loss  of  the  Spaniards  was  a  vast  sum  of  money  which  they 
had  to  pay  for  ransom.  This  was  one  of  many  gallant 
achievements  on  the  sea,  effected  in  this  reign.  Sir  Walter 
Raleigh  himself,  after  marrying  a  maid  of  honor  and  giving 
offence  to  the  Maiden  Queen  thereby,  had  already  sailed  to 
South  America  in  search  of  gold. 

The  Earl  of  Leicester  was  now  dead,  and  so  was  Sir  Thom- 
as Walsingham,  whom  Lord  Burleigh  was  soon  to  follow. 
The  principal  favorite  was  the  EARL  OF  ESSEX,  a  spirited  and 
handsome  man,  a  favorite  with  the  people  too  as  well  as  with 
the  Queen,  and  possessed  of  many  admirable  qualities.  It 


ELIZABETH.  353 

was  much  debated  at  Court  whether  there  should  be  peace 
with  Spain  or  no,  and  he  was  very  urgent  for  war.  He  also 
tried  hard  to  have  his  own  way  in  the  appointment  of  a  dep- 
uty to  govern  in  Ireland.  One  day,  while  this  question  was  in 
dispute,  he  hastily  took  offence,  and  turned  his  back  upon  the 
Queen  ;  as  a  gentle  reminder  of  which  impropriety,  the  Queen 
gave  him  a  tremendous  box  on  the  ear,  and  told  him  to  go  to 
the  devil.  He  went  home  instead,  and  did  not  reappear  at 
Court  for  half  a  year  or  so  when  he  and  the  Queen  were 
reconciled,  though  never  (as  some  suppose)  thoroughly. 

From  this  time  the  fate  of  the  Earl  of  Essex  and  that  of 
the  Queen  seemed  to  be  blended  together.  The  Irish  were 
still  perpetually  quarrelling  and  fighting  among  themselves, 
and  he  went  over  to  Ireland  as  Lord  Lieutenant,  to  the  great 
joy  of  his  enemies  (Sir  Walter  Raleigh  among  the  rest),  who 
were  glad  to  have  so  dangerous  a  rival  far  off.  Not  being  by 
any  means  successful  there,  and  knowing  that  his  enemies 
would  take  advantage  of  that  circumstance  to  injure  him 
with  the  Queen,  he  came  home  again,  though  against  her  or- 
ders. The  Queen  being  taken  by  surprise  when  he  appeared 
before  her,  gave  him  her  hand  to  kiss,  and  he  was  over- 
jo3-ed  —  though  it  was  not  a  very  lovely  hand  by  this  time  — 
but  in  the  course  of  the  same  day  she  ordered  him  to  confine 
himself  to  his  room,  and  two  or  three  days  afterwards  had  him 
taken  into  custody.  With  the  same  sort  of  caprice —  and  as 
capricious  an  old  woman  she  now  was,  as  ever  wore  a  crown 
or  a  head  either  —  she  sent  him  broth  from  her  own  table  on 
his  falling  ill  from  anxiety,  and  cried  about  him. 

He  was  a  man  who  could  find  comfort  and  occupation  in  his 
books,  and  he  did  so  for  a  time  ;  not  the  least  happy  time,  I 
dare  say,  of  his  life.  But  it  happened  unfortunately  for  him 
that  he  held  a  monopoly  in  sweet  wines :  which  means  that 
nobody  could  sell  them  without  purchasing  his  permission. 
This  right,  which  was  only  for  a  term,  expiring,  he  applied  to 
have  it  renewed.  The  Queen  refused,  with  the  rather  strong 
observation  —  but  she  did  make  strong  observations  —  that  ail 

23 


354  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

unruly  beast  must  be  stinted  in  his  food.  Upon  this,  the 
angry  Earl,  who  had  been  already  deprived  of  many  offices, 
thought  himself  in  danger  of  complete  ruin,  and  turned  against 
the  Queen,  whom  he  called  a  vain  old  woman  who  had  grown 
as  crooked  in  her  mind  as  she  had  in  her  figure.  These 
uncomplimentar}'  expressions  the  ladies  of  the  Court  immedi- 
ately snapped  up  and  carried  to  the  Queen,  whom  they  did  not 
put  in  a  better  temper,  you  may  believe.  The  same  Court 
ladies,  when  they  had  beautiful  dark  hair  of  their  own,  used 
to  wear  false  red  hair,  to  be  like  the  Queen.  So  the}'  were 
not  ver}-  high-spirited  ladies,  however  high  in  rank. 

The  worst  object  of  the  Earl  of  Essex,  and  some  friends  of 
Lis  who  used  to  meet  at  LORD  SOUTHAMPTON'S  house,  was  to 
obtain  possession  of  the  Queen,  and  oblige  her  by  force  to 
dismiss  her  ministers  and  change  her  favorites.  On  Satur- 
day the  seventh  of  February,  one  thousand  six  hundred  and 
one,  the  council  suspecting  this,  summoned  the  Earl  to  come 
before  them.  He,  pretending  to  be  ill,  declined  ;  it  was  then 
settled  among  his  friends,  that  as  the  next  day  would  be  Sun- 
day, when  many  of  the  citizens  usualty  assembled  at  the  Cross 
b}'  St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  he  should  make  one  bold  effort  to 
induce  them  to  rise  and  follow  him  to  the  Palace. 

So  on  the  Sunday  morning,  he  and  a  small  bod}-  of  adhe- 
rents started  out  of  his  house  —  Essex  House  by  the  Strand, 
with  steps  to  the  river  —  having  first  shut  up  in  it,  as  prison- 
ers, some  members  of  the  council  who  came  to  examine  him 
—  and  hurried  into  the  City  with  the  Earl  at  their  head,  ciy- 
ing  out,  "  For  the  Queen  !  For  the  Queen  !  A  plot  is  laid 
for  my  life  !  "  No  one  heeded  them,  however,  and  when  they 
came  to  St.  Paul's  there  were  no  citizens  there.  In  the  mean- 
time the  prisoners  at  Essex  House  had  been  released  by  one 
of  the  Earl's  own  friends  ;  he  had  been  promptl}*  proclaimed  a 
traitor  in  the  City  itself;  and  the  streets  were  barricaded  with 
carts  and  guarded  by  soldiers.  The  Earl  got  back  to  his 
house  by  water,  with  difficult}',  and  after  an  attempt  to  defend 
his  house  against  the  troops  and  cannon  by  which  it  was  soon 


ELIZABETH.  355 

surrounded,  gave  himself  up  that  night.  He  was  brought  to 
trial  on  the  nineteenth,  and  found  guilty ;  on  the  twenty- 
fifth,  he  was  executed  on  Tower  Hill,  where  he  died,  at 
thirty- four  years  old,  both  courageously  and  penitently.  His 
step-father  suffered  with  him.  His  enemy,  Sir  Walter  Ra- 
leigh, stood  near  the  scaffold  all  the  time  —  but  not  so  near  it 
as  we  shall  see  him  stand,  before  we  finish  his  history. 

In  this  case,  as  in  the  cases  of  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  and 
Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  the  Queen  had  commanded,  and  coun- 
termanded, and  again  commanded,  the  execution.  It  is  prob- 
able that  the  death  of  her  young  and  gallant  favorite  in  the 
prime  of  his  good  qualities,  was  never  off  her  mind  afterwards, 
but  she  held  out,  the  same  vain  obstinate  and  capricious 
woman,  for  another  }*ear.  Then  she  danced  before  her  Court 
on  a  state  occasion  —  and  cut,  I  should  think,  a  mighty  ridicu- 
lous figure,  doing  so  in  an  immense  ruff,  stomacher  and  wig, 
at  seventy  years  old.  For  another  year  still,  she  held  out, 
but,  without  airy  more  dancing,  and  as  a  moody  sorrowful  bro- 
ken creature.  At  last,  on  the  tenth  of  March,  one  thousand 
six  hundred  and  three,  having  been  ill  of  a  very  bad  cold,  and 
made  worse  by  the  death  of  the  Countess  of  Nottingham, 
who  was  her  intimate  friend,  she  fell  into  a  stupor  and  was 
supposed  to  be  dead.  She  recovered  her  consciousness,  how- 
ever, and  then  nothing  would  induce  her  to  go  to  bed ;  for 
she  said  that  she  knew  that  if  she  did  she  should  never  get 
up  again.  There  she  lay  for  ten  da}'s,  on  cushions  on  the 
floor,  without  any  food,  until  the  Lord  Admiral  got  her  into 
bed  at  last,  partly  by  persuasions  and  partly  by  main  force. 
When  they  asked  her  who  should  succeed  her,  she  replied  that 
her  seat  had  been  the  seat  of  Kings  and  that  she  would  have 
for  her  successor,  "No  rascal's  son,  but  a  King's."  Upon 
this,  the  lords  present  stared  at  one  another,  and  took  the  lib- 
erty of  asking  whom  she  meant ;  to  which  she  replied,  "Whom 
should  I  mean,  but  our  cousin  of  Scotland!"  This  was  on 
the  twenty-third  of  March.  They  asked  her  once  again  that 
day,  after  she  was  speechless,  whether  she  was  still  in  the 


356  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

same  mind?  She  struggled  up  in  bed,  and  joined  her 
hands  over  her  head  in  the  form  of  a  crown,  as  the  only  reply 
she  could  make.  At  three  o'clock  next  morning,  she  very 
quietly  died,  in  the  fortj'-fifth  year  of  her  reign. 

That  reign  had  been  a  glorious  one,  and  is  made  for  ever 
memorable  by  the  distinguished  men  who  flourished  in  it. 
Apart  from  the  great  voj'agers,  statesmen,  and  scholars, 
whom  it  produced,  the  names  of  BACON,  SPENSER,  and 
SHAKESPEARE,  will  always  be  remembered  with  pride  and 
veneration  by  the  civilized  world,  and  will  always  impart 
(though  with  no  great  reason,  perhaps)  some  portion  of  their 
lustre  to  the  name  of  Elizabeth  herself.  It  was  a  great  reign 
for  discovery,  for  commerce,  and  for  English  enterprise  and 
spirit  in  general.  It  was  a  great  reign  for  the  Protestant  re- 
ligion and  for  the  Reformation  which  made  England  free. 
The  Queen  was  ver}-  popular,  and  in  her  progresses,  or  jour- 
neys about  her  dominions,  was  everywhere  received  with  the 
liveliest  jo}7.  I  think  the  truth  is,  that  she  was  not  half  so 
good  as  she  has  been  made  out,  and  not  half  so  bad  as  she 
has  been  made  out.  She  had  her  fine  qualities,  but  she  was 
coarse,  capricious,  and  treacherous,  and  had  all  the  faults  of 
an  excessively  vain  young  woman  long  after  she  was  an  old 
one.  On  the  whole,  she  had  a  great  deal  too  much  of  her 
father  in  her,  to  please  me. 

Many  improvements  and  luxuries  were  introduced  in  the 
course  of  these  five-and-forty  years  in  the  general  manner  of 
living ;  but  cock-fighting,  bull-baiting,  and  bear-baiting,  were 
still  the  national  amusements  ;  and  a  coach  was  so  rarely 
seen,  and  was  such  an  ugly  and  cumbersome  affair  when  it 
was  seen,  that  even  the  Queen  herself,  on  many  high  occa- 
sions, rode  on  horseback  on  a  pillion  behind  the  Lord  Chan- 
cellor. 


JAMES  THE  FIRST.  357 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

ENGLAND    UNDER   JAMES   THE    FIRST. 

"OuR  cousin  of  Scotland"  was  ugly,  awkward,  and  shuf- 
fling both  in  mind  and  person.  His  tongue  was  much  too 
large  for  his  mouth,  his  legs  were  much  too  weak  for  his 
body,  and  his  dull  goggle-eyes  stared  and  rolled  like  an 
idiot's.  He  was  cunning,  covetous,  wasteful,  idle,  drunken, 
greedy,  dirty,  cowardly,  a  great  swearer,  and  the  most  con- 
ceited man  on  earth.  His  figure  —  what  is  commonly  called 
rickety  from  his  birth  —  presented  a  most  ridiculous  appear- 
ance, dressed  in  thick  padded  clothes,  as  a  safeguard  against 
being  stabbed  (of  which  he  lived  in  continual  fear),  of  a 
grass-green  color  from  head  to  foot,  with  a  hunting-horn 
dangling  at  his  side  instead  of  a  sword,  and  his  hat  and 
feather  sticking  over  one  eye,  or  hanging  on  the  back  of  his 
head,  as  he  happened  to  toss  it  on.  He  used  to  loll  on  the 
necks  of  his  favorite  courtiers,  and  slobber  their  faces,  and 
kiss  and  pinch  their  cheeks  ;  and  the  greatest  favorite  he  ever 
had,  used  to  sign  himself  in  his  letters  to  his  royal  master, 
His  Majesty's  "dog  and  slave,"  and  used  to  address  his 
majesty  as  "  his  Sowship."  His  majesty  was  the  worst  rider 
ever  seen,  and  thought  himself  the  best.  He  was  one  of  the 
most  impertinent  talkers  (in  the  broadest  Scotch)  ever  heard, 
and  boasted  of  being  unanswerable  in  all  manner  of  argument. 
He  wrote  some  of  the  most  wearisome  treatises  ever  read  — 
among  others  a  book  upon  witchcraft,  in  which  he  was  a  de- 
vout believer  —  and  thought  himself  a  prodigy  of  authorship. 
He  thought,  and  wrote,  and  said,  that  a  king  had  a  right  to 
make  and  unmake  what  laws  he  pleased,  and  ought  to  be 


358  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF   ENGLAND. 

accountable  to  nobody  on  earth.  This  is  the  plain  true 
character  of  the  personage  whom  the  greatest  men  about  the 
court  praised  and  flattered  to  that  degree,  that  I  doubt  if 
there  be  anything  much  more  shameful  in  the  annals  of  hu- 
man nature. 

He  came  to  the  English  throne  with  great  ease.  The  mis- 
eries of  a  disputed  succession  had  been  felt  so  long,  and  so 
dreadfully,  that  he  was  proclaimed  within  a  few  hours  of 
.Elizabeth's  death,  and  was  accepted  by  the  nation,  even 
without  being  asked  to  give  an}-  pledge  that  he  would  govern 
well,  or  that  he  would  redress  crying  grievances.  He  took  a 
month  to  come  from  Edinburgh  to  London ;  and,  by  way  of 
exercising  his  new  power,  hanged  a  pickpocket  on  the  journey 
without  any  trial,  and  knighted  everybody  he  could  lay  hold 
of.  He  made  two  hundred  knights  before  he  got  to  his  palace 
in  London,  and  seven  hundred  before  he  had  been  in  it  three 
months.  He  also  shovelled  sixty-two  new  peers  into  the 
House  of  Lords  —  and  there  was  a  pretty  large  sprinkling  of 
Scotchmen  among  them,  you  may  believe. 

His  Sowship's  prime  Minister,  CECIL  (for  I  cannot  do  bet- 
ter than  call  his  majesty  what  his  favorite  called  him),  was 
the  enemy  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  and  also  of  Sir  Walter's 
political  friend,  LORD  COBHAM  ;  and  his  Sowship's  first  trou- 
ble was  a  plot  originated  by  these  two,  and  entered  into  by 
some  others,  with  the  old  object  of  seizing  the  King  and 
keeping  him  in  imprisonment  until  he  should  change  his  min- 
isters. There  were  Catholic  priests  in  the  plot,  and  there 
were  Puritan  noblemen  too ;  for,  although  the  Catholics  and 
Puritans  were  strongly  opposed  to  each  other,  the}'  united  at 
this  time  against  his  Sowship,  because  they  knew  that  he  had 
a  design  against  both,  after  pretending  to  be  friendly  to  each  ; 
this  design  being  to  have  only  one  high  and  convenient  form 
of  the  Protestant  religion,  which  everybody  should  be  bound 
to  belong  to,  whether  they  liked  it  or  not.  This  plot  was 
mixed  up  with  another,  which  may  Or  may  not  have  had  some 
reference  to  placing  on  the  throne,  at  some  time,  the  LADY 


JAMES   THE   FIRST.  359 

ARABELLA  STUART  ;  whose  misfortune  it  was,  to  be  the 
daughter  of  the  younger  brother  of  his  Sowship's  father,  but 
who  was  quite  innocent  of  any  part  in  the  scheme.  Sir  Wal- 
ter Raleigh  was  accused  on  the  confession  of  Lord  Cobhara  — 
a  miserable  creature,  who  said  one  thing  at  one  time,  and  an- 
other thing  at  another  time,  and  could  be  relied  upon  in 
nothing.  The  trial  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  lasted  from  eight 
in  the  morning  until  nearly  midnight ;  he  defended  himself 
with  such  eloquence,  genius,  and  spirit  against  all  accusations, 
and  against  the  insults  of  COKE,  the  A  ttorne}' -General — 
who,  according  to  the  custom  of  the  time,  foully  abused  him 
—  that  those  who  went  there  detesting  the  prisoner,  came 
away  admiring  him,  and  declaring  that  anything  so  wonderful 
and  so  captivating  was  never  heard.  He  was  found  guilty, 
nevertheless,  and  sentenced  to  death.  Execution  was  de- 
ferred, and  he  was  taken  to  the  Tower.  The  two  Catholic 
priests,  less  fortunate,  were  executed  with  the  usual  atrocity ; 
and  Lord  Cobham  and  two  others  were  pardoned  on  the  scaf- 
fold. His  Sowship  thought  it  wonderfully  knowing  in  him  to 
surprise  the  people  by  pardoning  these  three  at  the  very 
block ;  but,  blundering,  and  bungling,  as  usual,  he  had  very 
nearly  overreached  himself.  For,  the  messenger  on  horse- 
back who  brought  the  pardon,  came  so  late,  that  he  was 
pushed  to  the  outside  of  the  crowd,  and  was  obliged  to  shout 
and  roar  out  what  he  came  for.  The  miserable  Cobham  did 
not  gain  much  b}^  being  spared  that  day.  He  lived,  both  as 
a  prisoner  and  a  beggar,  utterly  despised,  and  miserably  poor, 
for  thirteen  years,  and  then  died  in  an  old  outhouse  belonging 
to  one  of  his  former  servants. 

This  plot  got  rid  of,  and  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  safely  shut  up 
in  the  Tower,  his  Sowship  held  a  great  dispute  with  the 
Puritans  on  their  presenting  a  petition  to  him,  and  had  it  all 
his  own  way  —  not  so  very  wonderful,  as  he  would  talk  con- 
tinually, and  would  not  hear  an}'body  else  —  and  filled  the 
Bishops  with  admiration.  It  was  comfortably  settled  that 
there  was  to  be  only  one  form  of  religion,  and  that  all  men 


360  A   CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

were  to  think  exactly  alike.  But,  although  this  was  arranged 
two  centuries  and  a  half  ago,  and  although  the  arrangement 
was  supported  by  much  fining  and  imprisonment,  I  do  not 
find  that  it  is  quite  successful,  even  3~et. 

His  Sowship,  having  that  uncommon!}'  high  opinion  of 
himself  as  a  king,  had  a  very  low  opinion  of  Parliament  as  a 
power  that  audaciously  wanted  to  control  him.  When  he 
called  his  first  Parliament  after  he  had  been  king  a  }"ear,  he 
accordingly  thought  he  would  take  pretty  high  ground  with 
them,  and  told  them  that  he  commanded  them  "  as  an  abso- 
lute king."  The  Parliament  thought  those  strong  words,  and 
saw  the  necessity  of  upholding  their  authority.  His  Sowship 
had  three  children :  Prince  Henr}7,  Prince  Charles,  and  the 
Princess  Elizabeth.  It  would  have  been  well  for  one  of 
these,  and  we  shall  too  soon  see  which,  if  he  had  learnt  a 
little  wisdom  concerning  Parliaments  from  his  father's  obsti- 
nacy. 

Now,  the  people  still  laboring  under  their  old  dread  of  the 
Catholic  religion,  this  Parliament  revived  and  strengthened 
the  severe  laws  against  it.  And  this  so  angered  ROBERT 
CATESBY,  a  restless  Catholic  gentleman  of  an  old  family,  that 
he  formed  one  of  the  most  desperate  and  terrible  designs  ever 
conceived  in  the  mind  of  man ;  no  less  a  scheme  than  the 
Gunpowder  Plot. 

His  object  was,  when  the  king,  lords,  and  commons  should 
be  assembled  at  the  next  opening  of  Parliament,  to  blow  them 
up,  one  and  all,  with  a  great  mine  of  gunpowder.  The  first 
person  to  whom  he  confided  this  horrible  idea  was  THOMAS 
WINTER,  a  Worcestershire  gentleman  who  had  served  in  the 
army  abroad,  and  had  been  secretly  employed  in  Catholic 
projects.  While  Winter  was  yet  undecided,  and  when  he 
had  gone  over  to  the  Netherlands,  to  learn  from  the  Spanish 
Ambassador  there  whether  there  was  an}*  hope  of  Catholics 
being  relieved  through  the  intercession  of  the  King  of  Spain 
with  his  Sowship,  he  found  at  Ostend  a  tall  dark  daring 
man,  whom  he  had  known  when  they  were  both  soldiers 


JAMES   THE   FIRST.  361 

abroad,  and  whose  name  was  GUIDO  —  or  GUY  —  FAWKES. 
Resolved  to  join  the  plot,  he  proposed  it  to  this  man,  know- 
ing him  to  be  the  man  for  an}-  desperate  deed,  and  they  two 
came  back  to  England  together.  Here,  they  admitted  two 
other  conspirators :  THOMAS  PERCY,  related  to  the  Earl  of 
Northumberland,  and  JOHN  WRIGHT,  his  brother-in-law.  All 
these  met  together  in  a  solitary  house  in  the  open  fields  which 
were  then  near  Clement's  Inn,  now  a  closely  blocked-up  part 
of  London  ;  and  when  they  had  all  taken  a  great  oath  of 
secrecy,  Catesby  told  the  rest  what  his  plan  was.  They  then 
went  up-stairs  into  a  garret,  and  received  the  sacrament  from 
FATHER  GERARD,  a  Jesuit,  who  is  said  not  to  have  known 
actually  of  the  Gunpowder  Plot,  but  who,  I  think,  must 
have  had  his  suspicions  that  there  was  something  desperate 
afoot. 

Percy  was  a  Gentleman  Pensioner,  and  as  he  had  occa- 
sional duties  to  perform  about  the  Court,  then  kept  at  White- 
hall, there  would  be  nothing  suspicious  in  his  living  at  West- 
minster. So,  having  looked  well  about  him,  and  having 
found  a  house  to  let,  the  back  of  which  joined  the  Parliament 
House,  he  hired  it  of  a  person  named  FERRIS,  for  the  purpose 
of  undermining  the  wall.  Having  got  possession  of  this 
house,  the  conspirators  hired  another  on  the  Lambeth  side  of 
the  Thames,  which  they  used  as  a  store-house  for  wood, 
gunpowder,  and  other  combustible  matters.  These  were  to 
be  removed  at  night  (and  afterwards  were  removed),  bit  by 
bit,  to  the  house  at  Westminster ;  and,  that  there  might  be 
some  trusty  person  to  keep  watch  over  the  Lambeth  stores, 
they  admitted  another  conspirator,  by  name  ROBERT  KAY,  a 
very  poor  Catholic  gentleman. 

All  these  arrangements  had  been  made  some  months,  and 
it  was  a  dark  wintry  December  night,  when  the  conspirators, 
who  had  been  in  the  meantime  dispersed  to  avoid  observation, 
met  in  the  house  at  Westminster,  and  began  to  dig.  They 
had  laid  in  a  good  stock  of  eatables,  to  avoid  going  in  and 
out,  and  they  dug  and  dug  with  great  ardor.  But,  the  wall 


362  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF   ENGLAND. 

being  tremendously  thick,  and  the  work  very  severe,  they 
took  into  their  plot  CHRISTOPHER  WRIGHT,  a  younger  brother 
of  John  Wright,  that  they  might  have  a  new  pair  of  hands  to 
help.  And  Christopher  Wright  fell  to  like  a  fresh  man,  and 
they  dug  and  dug  by  night  and  by  da}7,  and  Fawkes  stood 
sentinel  all  the  time.  And  if  any  man's  heart  seemed  to  fail 
him  at  all,  Fawkes  said,  "Gentlemen,  we  have  abundance 
of  powder  and  shot  here,  and  there  is  no  fear  of  our  being 
taken  alive,  even  if  discovered."  The  same  Fawkes,  who,  in 
the  capacity  of  sentinel,  was  always  prowling  about,  soon 
picked  up  the  intelligence  that  the  King  had  prorogued  the 
Parliament  again,  from  the  seventh  of  February,  the  day  first 
fixed  upon,  until  the  third  of  October.  When  the  conspirators 
knew  this,  they  agreed  to  separate  until  after  the  Christmas 
holidays,  and  to  take  no  notice  of  each  other  in  the  mean- 
while, and  never  to  write  letters  to  one  another  on  an}T  account. 
So,  the  house  in  Westminster  was  shut  up  again,  and  I  sup- 
pose the  neighbors  thought  that  those  strange  looking  men 
who  lived  there  so  gloomily,  and  went  out  so  seldom,  were 
gone  awa}<  to  have  a  merry  Christmas  somewhere. 

It  was  the  beginning  of  Februar}'-,  sixteen  hundred  and  five, 
when  Catesby  met  his  fellow-conspirators  again  at  this  West- 
minster house.  He  had  now  admitted  three  more ;  JOHN 
GRANT,  a  Warwickshire  gentleman  of  a  melancholy  temper, 
who  lived  in  a  doleful  house  near  Stratford-upon-Avon,  with 
a  frowning  wall  all  around  it,  and  a  deep  moat ;  ROBERT 
WINTER,  eldest  brother  of  Thomas ;  and  Catesby's  own  ser- 
vant, THOMAS  BATES,  who,  Catesby  thought,  had  had  some 
suspicion  of  what  his  master  was  about.  These  three  had  all 
suffered  more  or  less  for  their  religion  in  Elizabeth's  time. 
And  now,  they  all  began  to  dig  again,  and  they  dug  and  dug 
b}1  night  and  by  day. 

They  found  it  dismal  work  alone  there,  underground,  with 
such  a  fearful  secret  on  their  minds,  and  so  man}'  murders 
before  them.  They  were  filled  with  wild  fancies.  Sometimes 
they  thought  they  heard  a  great  bell  tolling,  deep  down  in  the 


JAMES  THE  FIRST.  3G3 

earth  under  the  Parliament  House  ;  sometimes,  they  thought 
they  heard  low  voices  muttering  about  the  Gunpowder  Plot ; 
once  in  the  morning,  the}'  really  did  hear  a  great  rumbling 
noise  over  their  heads,  as  they  dug  and  sweated  in  their  mine. 
Every  man  stopped  and  looked  aghast  at  his  neighbor,  won- 
dering what  had  happened,  when  that  bold  prowler,  Fawkes, 
who  had  been  out  to  look,  came  in  and  told  them  that  it  was 
only  a  dealer  in  coals  who  had  occupied  a  cellar  under  the 
Parliament  House,  removing  his  stock  in  trade  to  some  other 
place.  Upon  this,  the  conspirators,  who  with  all  their  digging 
and  digging  had  not  yet  dug  through  the  tremendously  thick 
wall,  changed  their  plan  ;  hired  that  cellar,  which  was  directly 
under  the  House  of  Lords  ;  put  six-and-thirty  barrels  of  gun- 
powder in  it,  and  covered  them  over  with  faggots  and  coals. 
Then  they  all  dispersed  again  till  September,  when  the  follow- 
ing new  conspirators  were  admitted  ;  SIR  EDWARD  BAYKHAM, 
of  Gloucestershire ;  SIR  EVERARD  DIGBY,  of  Rutlandshire ; 
AMBROSE  ROOKWOOD,  of  Suffolk ;  FRANCIS  TRESIIAM,  of 
Northamptonshire.  Most  of  these  were  rich,  and  were  to 
assist  the  plot,  some  with  money  and  some  with  horses  on 
which  the  conspirators  were  to  ride  through  the  country  and 
rouse  the  Catholics  after  the  Parliament  should  be  blown  into 
air. 

Parliament  being  again  prorogued  from  the  third  of  Octo- 
ber to  the  fifth  of  November,  and  the  conspirators  being 
uneasy  lest  their  design  should  have  been  found  out,  Thomas 
Winter  said  he  would  go  up  into  the  House  of  Lords  on  the 
day  of  the  prorogation,  and  see  how  matters  looked.  Nothing 
could  be  better.  The  unconscious  Commissioners  were  walk- 
ing about  and  talking  to  one  another,  just  over  the  six-and 
thirty  barrels  of  gunpowder.  He  came  back  and  told  the 
rest  so,  and  they  went  on  with  their  preparations.  They 
hired  a  ship,  and  kept  it  ready  in  the  Thames,  in  which 
Fawkes  was  to  sail  for  Flanders  after  firing  with  a  slow  match 
the  train  that  was  to  explode  the  powder.  A  number  of  Cath- 
olic gentlemen  not  in  the  secret,  were  invited,  on  pretence  of 


364  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

a  hunting  party,  to  meet  SirEverard  Digby  at  Dunchurch  on 
the  fatal  day,  that  they  might  be  ready  to  act  together.  And 
now  all  was  ready. 

But,  now,  the  great  wickedness  and  danger  which  had  been 
all  along  at  the  bottom  of  this  wicked  plot,  began  to  show 
itself.  As  the  fifth  of  November  drew  near,  most  of  the  con- 
spirators, remembering  that  they  had  friends  and  relations 
who  would  be  in  the  House  of  Lords  that  day,  felt  some 
natural  relenting,  and  a  wish  to  warn  them  to  keep  awa}T. 
They  were  not  much  comforted  by  Catesby's  declaring  that 
in  such  a  cause  he  would  blow  up  his  own  son.  LORD  MOUNT- 
EAGLE,  Tresham's  brother-in-law,  was  certain  to  be  in  the 
house ;  and  when  Tresham  found  that  he  could  not  prevail 
upon  the  rest  to  devise  any  means  of  sparing  their  friends, 
he  wrote  a  mysterious  letter  to  this  lord  and  left  it  at  his 
lodging  in  the  dusk,  urging  him  to  keep  away  from  the  open- 
ing of  Parliament,  "  since  God  and  man  had  concurred  to 
punish  the  wickedness  of  the  times."  It  contained  the  words 
"that  the  Parliament  should  receive  a  terrible  blow,  and  yet 
should  not  see  who  hurt  them."  And  it  added,  "  the  danger 
is  past  as  soon  as  you  have  burnt  the  letter." 

The  ministers  and  courtiers,  made  out  that  his  Sowship,  by 
a  direct  miracle  from  Heaven,  found  out  what  this  letter 
meant.  The  truth  is,  that  they  were  not  long  (as  few  men 
would  be)  in  finding  out  for  themselves ;  and  it  was  decided 
to  let  the  conspirators  alone,  until  the  very  day  before  the 
opening  of  Parliament.  That  the  conspirators  had  their  fears, 
is  certain ;  for  Tresham  himself  said  before  them  all,  that 
they  were  every  one  dead  men ;  and,  although  even  he  did 
not  take  flight,  there  is  reason  to  suppose  that  he  had  warned 
other  persons  besides  Lord  Mounteagle.  However,  they 
were  all  firm ;  and  Fawkes,  who  was  a  man  of  iron,  went 
down  every  day  and  night  to  keep  watch  in  the  cellar  as 
usual.  He  was  there  about  two  in  the  afternoon  of  the  fourth, 
when  the  Lord  Chamberlain  and  Lord  Mounteagle  threw  open 
the  door  and  looked  in.  "  Who  are  you,  friend?"  said  they. 


JAMES  THE  FIRST.  365 

"Why,"  said  Fawkes,  "  I  am  Mr.  Percy's  servant,  and  am 
looking  after  his  store  of  fuel  here."  "  Your  master  has  laid 
in  a  pretty  good  store,"  they  returned  and  shut  the  door,  and 
went  away.  Fawkes,  upon  this,  posted  off  to  the  other  con- 
spirators to  tell  them  all  was  quiet,  and  went  back  and  shut 
himself  up  in  the  dark  black  cellar  again,  where  he  heard  the 
bell  go  twelve  o'clock  and  usher  in  the  fifth  of  November. 
About  two  hours  afterwards,  he  slowly  opened  the  door,  and 
came  out  to  look  about  him,  in  his  old  prowling  wa}-.  He 
was  instantly  seized  and  bound,  by  a  party  of  soldiers  under 
SIR  THOMAS  KNEVETT.  He  had  a  watch  upon  him,  some 
touchwood,  some  tinder,  some  slow  matches ;  and  there  was 
a  dark  lantern  with  a  candle  in  it,  lighted,  behind  the  door. 
He  had  his  boots  and  spurs  on  —  to  ride  to  the  ship,  I  sup- 
pose —  and  it  was  well  for  the  soldiers  that  they  took  him  so 
suddenly.  If  they  had  left  him  but  a  moment's  time  to  light 
a  match,  he  certainly  would  have  tossed  it  in  among  the 
powder,  and  blown  up  himself  and  them. 

They  took  him  to  the  King's  bed-chamber  first  of  all,  and 
there  the  King  (causing  him  to  be  held  very  tight,  and  keep- 
ing a  good  way  off,  asked  him  how  he  could  have  the  heart 
to  intend  to  destrdy  so  many  innocent  people?  "  Because," 
said  Guy  Fawkes,  "  desperate  diseases  need  desperate  reme- 
dies." To  a  little  Scotch  favorite,  with  a  face  like  a  terrier, 
who  asked  him  (with  no  particular  wisdom)  why  he  had 
collected  so  much  gunpowder,  he  replied,  because  he  had 
meant  to  blow  Scotchmen  back  to  Scotland,  and  it  would 
take  a  deal  of  powder  to  do  that.  Next  day  he  was  carried 
to  the  Tower,  but  would  make  no  confession.  Even  after 
being  horribly  tortured,  he  confessed  nothing  that  the  Gov- 
ernment did  not  already  know ;  though  he  must  have  been  in 
a  fearful  state  —  as  his  signature,  still  preserved,  in  contrast 
with  his  natural  handwriting  before  he  was  put  upon  the 
dreadful  rack,  most  frightfully  shows.  Bates,  a  very  differ- 
ent man,  soon  said  the  Jesuits  had  had  to  do  with  the  plot, 
and  probably,  under  the  torture,  would  as  readily  have  said 


366  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

anything.  Tresharu,  taken  and  put  in  the  Tower  too,  made 
confessions  and  unmade  them,  and  died  of  an  illness  that 
was  heavy  upon  him.  Rookwood,  who  had  stationed  relays 
of  his  own  horses  all  the  vfay  to  Dunchurch,  did  not  mount 
to  escape  until  the  middle  of  the  day,  when  the  news  of  the 
plot  was  all  over  London.  On  the  road  he  came  up  with  the 
two  Wrights,  Catesby,  and  Percy ;  and  they  all  galloped 
together  into  Northamptonshire.  Thence  to  Dunchurch, 
where  they  found  the  proposed  party  assembled.  Finding, 
however,  that  there  had  been  a  plot,  and  that  it  had  been 
discovered,  the  party  disappeared  in  the  course  of  the  night, 
and  left  them  alone  with  Sir  Everard  Digby.  Away  they 
all  rode  again,  through  Warwickshire  and  Worcestershire, 
to  a  house  called  Holbeach,  on  the  borders  of  Staffordshire. 
They  tried  to  raise  the  Catholics  on  their  way,  but  were  in- 
dignantly driven  off  by  them.  All  this  time  they  were  hotly 
pursued  by  the  sheriff  of  Worcester,  and  a  fast  increasing 
concourse  of  riders.  At  last,  resolving  to  defend  themselves 
at  Holbeach,  they  shut  themselves  up  in  the  house,  and  put 
some  wet  powder  before  the  fire  to  dry.  But  it  blew  up, 
and  Catesby  was  singed  and  blackened,  and  almost  killed, 
and  some  of  the  others  were  sadly  hurt.  Still,  knowing  that 
they  must  die,  they  resolved  to  die  there,  and  with  only  their 
swords  in  their  hands  appeared  at  the  windows  to  be  shot  at 
by  the  sheriff  and  his  assistants.  Catesb}'  said  to  Thomas 
Winter,  after  Thomas  had  been  hit  in  the  right  arm  which 
dropped  powerless  by  his  side,  "  Stand  by  me,  Tom,  and  we 
will  die  together ! "  which  they  did,  being  shot  through  the 
body  by  two  bullets  from  one  gun.  John  Wright,  and  Chris- 
topher Wright,  and  Percy,  were  also  shot.  Rookwood  and 
Digby  were  taken :  the  former  with  a  broken  arm  and  a 
wound  in  his  body  too. 

It  was  the  fifteenth  of  January,  before  the  trial  of  Guy 
Fawkes,  and  such  of  the  other  conspirators  as  were  left  alive, 
came  on.  They  were  all  found  guilty,  all  hanged,  drawn, 
and  quartered :"  some,  in  St.  Paul's  Churchyard,  on  the  top 


JAMES  THE  FIRST.  367 

of  Ludgate-hill ;  some,  before  the  Parliament  House.  A 
Jesuit  priest,  named  HENRY  GARNET,  to  whom  the  dreadful 
design  was  said  to  have  been  communicated,  was  taken  and 
tried ;  and  two  of  his  servants,  as  well  as  a  poor  priest  who 
was  taken  with  him,  were  tortured  without  mercy.  He  him- 
self was  not  tortured,  but  was  surrounded  in  the  Tower  by 
tamperers  and  traitors,  and  so  was  made  unfairly  to  convict 
himself  out  of  his  own  mouth.  He  said,  upon  his  trial,  that 
he  had  done  all  he  could  to  prevent  the  deed,  and  that  he 
could  not  make  public  what  had  been  told  him  in  confession 
—  though  I  am  afraid  he  knew  of  the  plot  in  other  ways. 
He  was  found  guilty  and  executed,  after  a  manful  defence, 
and  the  Catholic  Church  made  a  saint  of  him ;  some  rich  and 
powerful  persons,  who  had  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  project, 
were  fined  and  imprisoned  for  it  by  the  Star  Chamber ;  the 
Catholics,  in  general,  who  had  recoiled  with  horror  from  the 
idea  of  the  infernal  contrivance,  were  unjustly  put  under 
more  severe  laws  than  before ;  and  this  was  the  end  of  the 
Gunpowder  Plot. 


SECOND  PART. 

His  Sowship  would  pretty  willingly,  I  think,  have  blown 
the  House  of  Commons  into  the  air  himself;  for  his  dread 
and  jealousy  of  it  knew  no  bounds  all  through  his  reign. 
When  he  was  hard  pressed  for  money  he  was  obliged  to  order 
it  to  meet,  as  he  could  get  no  money  without  it ;  and  when  it 
asked  him  first  to  abolish  some  of  the  monopolies  in  neces- 
saries of  life,  which  were  a  great  grievance  to  the  people, 
and  to  redress  other  public  wrongs,  he  flew  into  a  rage  and 
got  rid  of  it  again.  At  one  time  he  wanted  it  to  consent  to 
the  Union  of  England  with  Scotland,  and  quarrelled  about 
that.  At  another  time  it  wanted  him  to  put  down  a  most 
infamous  Church  abuse,  called  the  High  Commission  Court, 
and  he  quarrelled  with  it  about  that.  At  another  time  it  en- 


368  A   CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

treated  him  not  to  be  quite  so  fond  of  his  archbishops  and 
bishops  who  made  speeches  in  his  praise  too  awful  to  be  re- 
lated, but  to  have  some  little  consideration  for  the  poor  Pu- 
ritan clergy  who  were  persecuted  for  preaching  in  their  own 
way,  and  not  according  to  the  archbishops  and  bishops ;  and 
they  quarrelled  about  that.  In  short,  what  with  hating  the 
House  of  Commons,  and  pretending  not  to  hate  it ;  and  what 
with  now  sending  some  of  its  members  who  opposed  him,  to 
Newgate  or  to  the  Tower,  and  now  telling  the  rest  that  they 
must  not  presume  to  make  speeches  about  the  public  affairs 
which  could  not  possibly  concern  them ;  and  what  with  ca- 
joling, and  bullying,  and  frightening,  and  being  frightened ; 
the  House  of  Commons  was  the  plague  of  his  Sowship's  ex- 
istence. It  was  pretty  firm,  however,  in  maintaining  its 
rights,  and  insisting  that  the  Parliament  should  make  the 
laws,  and  not  the  King  by  his  own  single  proclamations 
(which  he  tried  hard  to  do)  ;  and  his  Sowship  was  so  often 
distressed  for  mone}-,  in  consequence,  that  he  sold  every  sort 
of  title  and  public  office  as  if  they  were  merchandise,  and 
even  invented  a  new  dignity  called  a  Baronetcy,  which  any- 
body could  buy  for  a  thousand  pounds. 

These  disputes  with  his  Parliaments,  and  his  hunting,  and 
his  drinking,  and  his  tying  in  bed  —  for  he  was  a  great  slug- 
gard—  occupied  his  Sowship  pretty  well.  The  rest  of  his 
time  he  chiefly  passed  in  hugging  and  slobbering  his  favor- 
ites. The  first  of  these  was  SIR  PHILIP  HERBERT,  who  had 
no  knowledge  whatever,  except  of  dogs,  and  horses,  and 
hunting,  but  whom  he  soon  made  EARL  OF  MONTGOMERY. 
The  next,  and  a  much  more  famous  one,  was  ROBERT  CARR, 
or  KER  (for  it  is  not  certain  which  was  his  right  name),  who 
came  from  the  Border  county,  and  whom  he  soon  made  VIS- 
COUNT ROCHESTER,  and  afterwards,  EARL  OF  SOMERSET.  The 
way  in  which  his  Sowship  doted  on  this  handsome  young  man, 
is  even  more  odious  to  think  of,  than  the  way  in  which  the 
realty  great  men  of  England  condescended  to  bow  down  be- 
fore him.  The  favorite's  great  friend  was  a  certain  SIR  TIIOMAS 


JAMES  THE  FIRST.  369 

OVERBURY,  who  wrote  his  love-letters  for  him,  and  assisted 
him  in  the  duties  of  his  many  high  places,  which  his  own 
ignorance  prevented  him  from  discharging.  But  this  same 
Sir  Thomas  having  just  manhood  enough  to  dissuade  the  fa- 
vorite from  a  wicked  marriage  with  the  beautiful  Countess  of 
Essex,  who  was  to  get  a  divorce  from  her  husband  for  the 
purpose,  the  said  Countess,  in  her  rage,  got  Sir  Thomas  put 
into  the  Tower,  and  there  poisoned  him.  Then  the  favorite 
and  this  bad  woman  were  publicly  married  by  the  King's  pet 
bishop,  with  as  much  to-do  and  rejoicing,  as  if  he  had  been 
the  best  man,  and  she  the  best  woman,  upon  the  face  of  the 
earth. 

But,  after  a  longer  sunshine  than  might  have  been  expected 
—  of  seven  years  or  so,  that  is  to  say — another  handsome 
young  man  started  up  and  eclipsed  the  EARL  OF  SOMERSET. 
This  was  GEORGE  VILLIERS,  the  youngest  son  of  a  Leicester- 
shire gentleman  :  who  came  to  Court  with  all  the  Paris  fash- 
ions on  him,  and  could  dance  as  well  as  the  best  mountebank 
that  ever  was  seen.  He  soon  danced  himself  into  the  good 
graces  of  his  Sowship,  and  danced  the  other  favorite  out  of 
favor.  Then,  it  was  all  at  once  discovered  that  the  Earl  and 
Countess  of  Somerset  had  not  deserved  all  those  great  pro- 
motions and  mighty  rejoicings,  and  they  were  separately  tried 
for  the  murder  of  Sir  Thomas  Overbury,  and  for  other  crimes. 
But,  the  King  was  so  afraid  of  his  late  favorite's  publicly 
telling  some  disgraceful  things  he  knew  of  him  —  which  he 
darkly  threatened  to  do  —  that  he  was  even  examined  with 
two  men  standing,  one  on  either  side  of  him,  each  with  a 
cloak  in  his  hand,  ready  to  throw  it  over  his  head  and  stop 
his  mouth  if  he  should  break  out  with  what  he  had  it  in  his 
power  to  tell.  So,  a  very  lame  affair  was  purposely  made  of 
the  trial,  and  his  punishment  was  an  alloAvance  of  four  thou- 
sand pounds  a  year  in  retirement,  while  the  Countess  was 
pardoned,  and  allowed  to  pass  into  retirement  too.  They 
hated  one  another  by  this  time,  and  lived  to  revile  and  tor- 
ment each  other  some  years. 

24 


370  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

While  these  events  were  in  progress,  and  while  his  Sow- 
ship  was  making  such  an  exhibition  of  himself,  from  clay  to 
day  and  from  year  to  year,  as  is  not  often  seen  in  any  st}*, 
three  remarkable  deaths  took  place  in  England.  The  first 
was  that  of  the  Minister,  Robert  Cecil,  Earl  of  Salisbuiy, 
who  was  past  sixty,  and  had  never  been  strong,  being  de- 
formed from  his  birth.  He  said  at  last  that  he  had  no  wish 
to  live  ;  and  no  Minister  need  have  had,  with  his  experience 
of  the  meanness  and  wickedness  of  those  disgraceful  times. 
The  second  was  that  of  the  Lady  Arabella  Stuart,  who 
alarmed  his  Sowship  mightily,  by  privately  marrying  WIL- 
LIAM SEYMOUR,  son  of  LORD  BEAUCHAMP,  who  was  a  descend- 
ant of  King  Henry  the  Seventh,  and  who.  his  S«owship 
thought,  might  consequently  increase  and  strengthen  any 
claim  she  might  one  day  set  up  to  the  throne.  She  was 
separated  from  her  husband  (who  was  put  in  the  Tower)  and 
thrust  into  a  boat  to  be  confined  at  Durham.  She  escaped 
in  a  man's  dress  to  get  away  in  a  French  ship  from  Graves- 
end  to  France,  but  unhappily  missed  her  husband,  who  had 
escaped  too,  and  was  soon  taken.  She  went  raving  mad  in 
the  miserable  Tower,  and  died  there  after  four  years.  The 
last,  and  the  most  important  of  these  three  deaths,  was  that 
of  Prince  Henry,  the  heir  to  the  throne,  in  the  nineteenth 
year  of  his  age.  He  was  a  promising  young  prince,  and 
greatly  liked ;  a  quiet  well-conducted  youth,  of  whom  two 
very  good  things  are  known :  first,  that  his  father  was  jeal- 
ous of  him ;  secondly,  that  he  was  the  friend  of  Sir  Walter 
Raleigh,  languishing  through  all  those  }rears  in  the  Tower, 
and  often  said  that  no  man  but  his  father  would  keep  such  a 
bird  in  such  a  cage.  On  the  occasion  of  the  preparations  for 
the  marriage  of  his  sister  the  Princess  Elizabeth  with  a  for- 
eign prince  (and  an  unhappy  marriage  it  turned  out),  he 
came  from  Richmond,  where  he  had  been  very  ill,  to  greet 
his  new  brother-in-law,  at  the  palace  at  Whitehall.  There 
he  played  a  great  game  at  tennis,  in  his  shirt,  though  it  was 
very  cold  weather,  and  was  seized  with  au  alarming  illness, 


JAMES  THE  FIRST.  371 

and  died  within  a  fortnight  of  a  putrid  fever.  For  this  young 
prince  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  wrote,  in  his  prison  in  the  Tower, 
the  beginning  of  a  History  of  the  World :  a  wonderful 
instance  how  little  his  Sowship  could  do  to  confine  a  great 
man's  mind,  however  long  he  might  imprison  his  body. 

And  this  mention  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  who  had  many 
faults,  but  who  never  showed  so  many  merits  as  in  trouble 
and  adversity,  may  bring  me  at  once  to  the  end  of  his  sad 
story.  After  an  imprisonment  in  the  Tower  of  twelve  long 
years,  he  proposed  to  resume  those  old  sea  voyages  of  his, 
and  to  go  to  South  America  in  search  of  gold.  His  Sowship, 
divided  between  his  wish  to  be  on  good  terms  with  the 
Spaniards  through  whose  territory  Sir  Walter  must  pass  (he 
had  long  had  an  idea  of  marrying  Prince  Henry  to  a  Spanish 
Princess),  and  his  avaricious  eagerness  to  get  hold  of  the 
gold,  did  not  know  what  to  do.  But,  in  the  end,  he  set  Sir 
Walter  free,  taking  securities  for  his  return ;  and  Sir  Walter 
fitted  out  an  expedition  at  his  own  cost,  and,  on  the  twenty- 
eighth  of  March,  one  thousand  six  hundred  and  seventeen, 
sailed  away  in  command  of  one  of  its  ships,  which  he  omi- 
nously called  the  Destiny.  The  expedition  failed ;  the  com- 
mon men,  not  finding  the  gold  they  had  expected,  mutinied ; 
a  quarrel  broke  out  between  Sir  Walter  and  the  Spaniards, 
who  hated  him  for  old  successes  of  his  against  them ;  and  he 
took  and  burnt  a  little  town  called  SAINT  THOMAS.  For  this 
he  was  denounced  to  his  Sowship  by  the  Spanish  Ambassador 
as  a  pirate ;  and  returning  almost  broken-hearted,  with  his 
hopes  and  fortunes  shattered,  his  company  of  friends  dis- 
persed, and  his  brave  son  (who  had  been  one  of  them)  killed, 
he  was  taken  — through  the  treachery  of  SIR  LEWIS  STUKELY, 
his  near  relation,  a  scoundrel  and  a  Vice- Admiral  —  and  was 
once  again  immured  in  his  prison-home  of  so  many  years. 

His  Sowship  being  mightily  disappointed  in  not  getting 
any  gold,  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  was  tried  as  unfairly,  and  with 
as  many  lies  and  evasions  as  the  judges  and  law  officers  and 
every  other  authority  in  Church  and  State  habitually  practised 


372  A   CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

under  such  a  King.  After  a  great  deal  of  prevarication  on 
all  parts  but  his  own,  it  was  declared  that  he  must  die  under 
his  former  sentence,  now  fifteen  years  old.  So,  on  the  twenty- 
eighth  of  October,  one  thousand  six  hundred  and  eighteen, 
he  was  shut  up  in  the  Gate  House  at  Westminster  to  pass 
his  last  night  on  earth,  and  there  he  took  leave  of  his  good 
and  faithful  lady  who  was  worthy  to  have  lived  in  better  days. 
At  eight  o'clock  next  morning,  after  a  cheerful  breakfast, 
and  a  pipe,  and  a  cup  of  good  wine,  he  was  taken  to  Old 
Palace  Yard  in  Westminster,  where  the  scaffold  was  set  up, 
and  where  so  many  people  of  high  degree  were  assembled  to 
see  him  die,  that  it  was  a  matter  of  some  difficulty  to  get  him 
through  the  crowd.  He  behaved  most  nobly,  but  if  any- 
thing lay  heavy  on  his  mind,  it  was  that  Earl  of  Essex,  whose 
head  he  had  seen  roll  off;  and  he  solemnly  said  that  he  had 
had  no  hand  in  bringing  him  to  the  block,  and  that  he  had 
shed  tears  for  him  when  he  died.  As  the  morning  was  very 
cold,  the  Sheriff  said,  would  he  come  down  to  a  fire  for  a 
little  space,  and  warm  himself?  But  Sir  Walter  thanked  him, 
and  said  no,  he  would  rather  it  were  done  at  once,  for  he  was 
ill  of  fever  and  ague,  and  in  another  quarter  of  an  hour  his 
shaking  fit  would  come  upon  him  if  he  were  still  alive,  and 
his  enemies  might  then  suppose  that  he  trembled  for  fear. 
With  that,  he  kneeled  and  made  a  very  beautiful  and  Chris- 
tian pra}*er.  Before  he  laid  his  head  upon  the  block  he  felt 
the  edge  of  the  axe,  and  said,  with  a  smile  upon  his  face, 
that  it  was  a  sharp  medicine,  but  would  cure  the  worst  disease. 
When  he  was  bent  down  ready  for  death,  he  said  to  the  ex- 
ecutioner, finding  that  he  hesitated,  "  What  dost  thou  fear? 
Strike,  man !  "  So,  the  axe  came  down  and  struck  his  head 
off,  in  the  sixty-sixth  j'ear  of  his  age. 

The  new  favorite  got  on  fast.  He  was  made  a  viscount, 
he  was  made  Duke  of  Buckingham,  he  was  made  a  marquis, 
he  was  made  Master  of  the  Horse,  he  was  made  Lord  High 
Admiral  —  and  the  Chief  Commander  of  the  gallant  English 
forces  that  had  dispersed  the  Spanish  Armada,  was  displaced 


EXECUTION   OF   SIB   WALTER   RALEIGH 


JAMES  THE  FIRST.  373 

to  make  room  for  him.  He  had  the  whole  kingdom  at  his 
disposal,  and  his  mother  sold  all  the  profits  and  honors  of 
the  State,  as  if  she  had  kept  a  shop.  He  blazed  all  over 
with  diamonds  and  other  precious  stones,  from  his  hatband 
and  his  earrings  to  his  shoes.  Yet  he  was  an  ignorant  pre- 
sumptuous swaggering  compound  of  knave  and  fool,  with 
nothing  but  his  beaut}'  and  his  dancing  to  recommend  him. 
This  is  the  gentleman  who  called  himself  his  Majesty's  dog 
and  slave,  and  called  his  Majest}T  Your  Sowship.  His  Sow- 
ship  called  him  STEENIE  ;  it  is  supposed,  because  that  was  a 
nickname  for  Stephen,  and  because  St.  Stephen  was  generally 
represented  in  pictures  as  a  handsome  saint. 

His  Sowship  was  driven  sometimes  to  his  wits'-end  by  his 
trimming  between  the  general  dislike  of  the  Catholic  religion 
at  home,  and  his  desire  to  wheedle  and  flatter  it  abroad,  as 
his  only  means  of  getting  a  rich  princess  for  his  son's  wife : 
a  part  of  whose  fortune  he  might  cram  into  his  greasy 
pockets.  Prince  Charles  —  or  as  his  Sowship  called  him, 
Baby  Charles  —  being  now  PRINCE  OP  WALES,  the  old  project 
of  a  marriage  with  the  Spanish  King's  daughter  had  been  re- 
vived for  him ;  and  as  she  could  not  marry  a  Protestant 
without  leave  from  the  Pope,  his  Sowship  himself  secretly 
and  meanly  wrote  to  his  Infallibility,  asking  for  it.  The 
negotiation  for  this  Spanish  marriage  takes  up  a  larger  space 
in  great  books,  than  you  can  imagine,  but  the  upshot  of  it  all 
is,  that  when  it  had  been  held  off  by  the  Spanish  Court  for  a 
long  time,  Baby  Charles  and  Steenie  set  off  in  disguise  as 
Mr.  Thomas  Smith  and  Mr.  John  Smith,  to  see' the  Spanish 
Princess  ;  that  Baby  Charles  pretended  to  be  desperately  in 
love  with  her,  and  jumped  off  walls  to  look  at  her,  and  made 
a  considerable  fool  of  himself  in  a  good  many  ways ;  that 
she  was  called  Princess  of  Wales,  and  that  the  whole  Spanish 
Court  believed  Baby  Charles  to  be  all  but  dying  for  her  sake, 
as  he  expressly  told  them  he  was ;  that  Baby  Charles  and 
Steenie  came  back  to  England,  and  were  received  with  as 
much  rapture  as  if  they  had  been  a  blessing  to  it ;  that  Baby 


374  A   CHILD'S  HISTOKY  OF  ENGLAND. 

Charles  had  actually  fallen  in  love  with  HENRIETTA  MARIA, 
the  French  King's  sister,  whom  he  had  seen  in  Paris  ;  that  he 
thought  it  a  wonderfully  fine  and  princely  thing  to  have  de- 
ceived the  Spaniards,  all  through ;  and  that  he  openly  said, 
with  a  chuckle,  as  soon  as  he  was  safe  and  sound  at  home 
again,  that  the  Spaniards  were  great  fools  to  have  believed 
him. 

Like  most  dishonest  men,  the  Prince  and  the  favorite  com- 
plained that  the  people  whom  they  had  deluded  were  dishon- 
est. They  made  such  misrepresentations  of  the  treachery  of 
the  Spaniards  in  this  business  of  the  Spanish  match,  that  the 
English  nation  became  eager  for  a  war  with  them.  Although 
the  gravest  Spaniards  laughed  at  the  idea  of  his  Sowship  in 
a  warlike  attitude,  the  Parliament  granted  money  for  the  be- 
ginning of  hostilities,  and  the  treaties  with  Spain  were  pub- 
licly declared  to  be  at  an  end.  The  Spanish  ambassador  in 
London  —  probably  with  the  help  of  the  fallen  favorite,  the 
Earl  of  Somerset  —  being  unable  to  obtain  speech  with  his 
Sowship,  slipped  a  paper  into  his  hand,  declaring  that  he  was 
a  prisoner  in  his  own  house,  and  was  entirely  governed  by 
Buckingham  and  his  creatures.  The  first  effect  of  this  letter 
was  that  his  Sowship  began  to  cry  and  whine,  and  took  Baby 
Charles  away  from  Steeriie,  and  went  down  to  Windsor, 
gabbling  all  sorts  of  nonsense.  The  end  of  it  was  that  his 
Sowship  hugged  his  dog  and  slave,  and  said  he  was  quite 
satisfied. 

He  had  given  the  Prince  and  the  favorite  almost  unlimited 
power  to  settle  anything  with  the  Pope  as  to  the  Spanish 
marriage  ;  and  he  now,  with  a  view  to  a  French  one,  signed 
a  treat}-  that  all  Roman  Catholics  in  England  should  exercise 
their  religion  freely,  and  should  never  be  required  to  take 
any  oath  contrary  thereto.  In  return  for  this,  and  for  other 
concessions  much  less  to  be  defended,  Henrietta  Maria  was 
to  become  the  Prince's  wife,  and  was  to  bring  him  a  fortune 
of  eight  hundred  thousand  crowns. 

His  Sowship's  e}-es  were  getting  red  with  eagerry  looking 


JAMES  THE  FIRST.  375 

for  the  money,  when  the  end  of  a  gluttonous  life  came  upon 
him ;  and,  after  a  fortnight's  illness,  on  Sunday  the  twenty- 
seventh  of  March,  one  thousand  six  hundred  and  twenty-five, 
he  died.  He  had  reigned  twenty- two  years,  and  was  fifty- 
nine  years  old.  I  know  of  nothing  more  abominable  in  his- 
tory than  the  adulation  that  was  lavished  on  this  King,  and 
the  vice  and  corruption  that  such  a  barefaced  habit  of  lying 
produced  in  his  court.  It  is  much  to  be  doubted  whether 
one  man  of  honor,  and  not  utterly  self-disgraced,  kept  his 
place  near  James  the  First.  Lord  Bacon,  that  able  and  wise 
philosopher,  as  the  First  Judge  in  the  Kingdom  in  this  reign,  • 
became  a  public  spectacle  of  dishonesty  and  corruption  ;  and 
in  his  base  flattery  of  his  Sowship,  and  in  his  crawling  ser- 
vility to  his  dog  and  slave,  disgraced  himself  even  more. 
But,  a  creature  like  his  Sowship  set  upon  a  throne  is  like  the 
Plague,  and  every  bod}7  receives  infection  from  him. 


376  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER    XXXIII. 

ENGLAND   UNDER   CHARLES   THE    FIRST. 

BABY  CHARLES  became  KING  CHARLES  THE  FIRST,  in  the 
twenty-fifth  year  of  his  age.  Unlike  his  father,  he  was 
usually  amiable  in  his  private  character,  and  grave  and  dig- 
nified in  his  bearing ;  but,  like  his  father,  he  had  monstrously 
exaggerated  notions  of  the  rights  of  a  king,  and  was  evasive, 
and  not  to  be  trusted.  If  his  word  could  have  been  relied 
upon,  his  history  might  have  had  a  different  end. 

His  first  care  was  to  send  over  that  insolent  upstart,  Buck- 
ingham, to  bring  Henrietta  Maria  from  Paris  to  be  his  Queen  ; 
upon  which  occasion  Buckingham  —  with  his  usual  audacity 
—  made  love  to  the  young  Queen  of  Austria,  and  was  very 
indignant  indeed  with  CARDINAL  RICHELIEU,  the  French  Min- 
ister, for  thwarting  his  intentions.  The  English  people  were 
very  well  disposed  to  like  their  new  Queen,  and  to  receive 
her  with  great  favor  when  she  came  among  them  as  a  stran- 
ger. But,  she  held  the  Protestant  religion  in  great  dislike, 
and  brought  over  a  crowd  of  unpleasant  priests,  who  made 
her  do  some  very  ridiculous  things,  and  forced  themselves 
upon  the  public  notice  in  many  disagreeable  ways.  Hence, 
the  people  soon  came  to  dislike  her,  and  she  soon  came  to 
dislike  them ;  and  she  did  so  much  all  through  this  reign  in 
setting  the  King  (who  was  dotingly  fond  of  her)  against  his 
subjects,  that  it  would  have  been  better  for  him  if  she  had 
never  been  born. 

Now,  you  are  to  understand  that  King  Charles  the  First  — 
of  his  own  determination  to  be  a  high  and  mighty  King  not 
to  be  called  to  account  by  anybody,  and  urged  on  by  his 


CHARLES   THE   FIRST.  377 

Queen  besides  —  deliberately  set  himself  to  put  his  Parlia- 
ment down  and  to  put  himself  up.  You  are  also  to  under- 
stand, that  even  in  pursuit  of  this  wrong  idea  (enough  in 
itself  to  have  ruined  any  king)  he  never  took  a  straight 
course,  but  always  took  a  crooked  one. 

He  was  bent  upon  war  with  Spain,  though  neither  the 
House  of  Commons  nor  the  people  were  quite  clear  as  to 
the  justice  of  that  war,  now  that  they  began  to  think  a  little 
more  about  the  story  of  the  Spanish  match.  But  the  King 
rushed  into  it  hotly,  raised  money  by  illegal  means  to  meet 
its  expenses,  and  encountered  a  miserable  failure  at  Cadiz, 
in  the  very  first  year  of  his  reign.  An  expedition  to  Cadiz 
had  been  made  in  the  hope  of  plunder,  but  as  it  was  not  suc- 
cessful, it  was  necessary  to  get  a  grant  of  money  from  the 
Parliament ;  and  when  they  met,  in  no  very  complying  humor, 
the  King  told  them,  "  to  make  haste  to  let  him  have  it,  or  it 
would  be  the  worse  for  themselves."  Not  put  in  a  more  com- 
plying humor  by  this,  they  impeached  the  King's  favorite,  the 
Duke  of  Buckingham,  as  the  cause  (which  he  undoubtedly 
was)  of  many  great  public  grievances  and  wrongs.  The 
King,  to  save  him,  dissolved  the  Parliament  without  getting 
the  money  he  wanted  ;  and  when  the  Lords  implored  him  to 
consider  and  grant  a  little  delay,  he  replied,  "  No,  not  one 
minute."  He  then  began  to  raise  money  for  himself  by  the 
following  means  among  others. 

He  levied  certain  duties  called  tonnage  and  poundage  which 
had  not  been  granted  by  the  Parliament,  and  could  lawfully 
be  levied  by  no  other  power;  he  called  upon  the  seaport 
towns  to  furnish,  and  to  pay  all  the  cost  for  three  months 
of,  a  fleet  of  armed  ships ;  and  he  required  the  people  to 
unite  in  lending  him  large  sums  of  money,  the  repayment  of 
which  was  very  doubtful.  If  the  poor  people  refused,  they 
were  pressed  as  soldiers  or  sailors ;  if  the  gentry  refused, 
they  were  sent  to  prison.  Five  gentlemen,  named  SIR  THOMAS 
DARNEL,  JOHN  CORBET,  WALTER  EARL,  JOHN  HEVENINGHAM, 
and  EVERARD  HAMPUEN,  for  refusing  were  taken  up  by  a 


378  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

warrant  of  the  King's  privy  council,  and  were  sent  to  prison 
without  any  cause  but  the  King's  pleasure  being  stated  for 
their  imprisonment.  Then  the  question  came  to  be  solemnly 
tried,  whether  this  was  not  a  violation  of  Magna  Charta,  and 
an  encroachment  by  the  King  on  the  highest  rights  of  the 
English  people.  His  Iaw3rers  contended  No,  because  to  en- 
croach upon  the  rights  of  the  English  people  would  be  to  do 
wrong,  and  the  King  could  do  no  wrong.  The  accommodating 
judges  decided  in  favor  of  this  wicked  nonsense ;  and  here 
was  a  fatal  division  between  the  King  and  the  people. 

For  all  this,  it  became  necessary  to  call  another  Parliament. 
The  people,  sensible  of  the  danger  in  which  their  liberties 
were,  chose  for  it  those  who  were  best  known  for  their  deter- 
mined opposition  to  the  King ;  but  still  the  King,  quite 
blinded  by  his  determination  to  carry  everything  before  him, 
addressed  them  when  they  met,  in  a  contemptuous  manner, 
and  just  told  them  in  so  many  words  that  he  had  only  called 
them  together  because  he  wanted  money.  The  Parliament, 
strong  enough  and  resolute  enough  to  know  that  they  would 
lower  his  tone,  cared  little  for  what  he  said,  and  laid  before 
him  one  of  the  great  documents  of  history,  which  is  called 
the  PETITION  OF  RIGHT,  requiring  that  the  free  men  of  Eng- 
land should  no  longer  be  called  upon  to  lend  the  King  money, 
and  should  no  longer  be  pressed  or  imprisoned  for  refusing 
to  do  so ;  further,  that  the  free  men  of  P^ngland  should  no 
longer  be  seized  by  the  King's  special  mandate  or  warrant,  it 
being  contrary  to  their  rights  and  liberties  and  the  laws  of 
their  county.  At  first  the  King  returned  an  answer  to  this 
petition,  in  which  he  tried  to  shirk  it  altogether;  but,  the 
House  of  Commons  then  showing  their  determination  to  go 
on  with  the  impeachment  of  Buckingham  the  King  in  alarm 
returned  an  answer,  giving  his  consent  to  all  that  was  re- 
quired of  him.  He  not  only  afterwards  departed  from  his 
word  and  honor  on  these  points,  over  and  over  again,  but,  at 
this  very  time,  he  did  the  mean  and  dissembling  act  of  pub- 
lishing his  first  answer  and  not  his  second  —  merely  that  the 


CHARLES   THE   FIRST.  379 

people  might  suppose  that  the  Parliament  had  not  got  the 
better  of  him. 

That  pestilent  Buckingham,  to  gratify  his  own  wounded 
vanity,  had  by  this  time  involved  the  country  in  war  with 
France,  as  well  as  with  Spain.  For  such  miserable  causes 
and  such  miserable  creatures  are  wars  sometimes  made  !  But 
he  was  destined  to  do  little  more  mischief  in  this  world.  One 
morning,  as  he  was  going  out  of  his  house  to  his  carriage,  he 
turned  to  speak  to  a  certain  Colonel  FRYER  who  was  with 
him ;  and  he  was  violently  stabbed  with  a  knife,  which  the 
murderer  left  sticking  in  his  heart.  This  happened  in  his 
hall.  He  had  had  angry  words  up-stairs,  just  before,  with 
some  French  gentlemen,  who  were  immediately  suspected  by 
his  servants,  and  had  a  close  escape  from  being  set  upon 
and  killed.  In  the  midst  of  the  noise,  the  real  murderer, 
who  had  gone  to  the  kitchen  and  might  easily  have  got  away, 
drew  his  sword  and  cried  out,  "  I  am  the  man  !  "  His  name 
was  JOHN  FELTON,  a  Protestant  and  a  retired  officer  in  the 
army.  He  said  he  had  had  no  personal  ill-will  to  the  Duke, 
but  had  killed  him  as  a  curse  to  the  country.  He  had  aimed 
his  blow  well,  for  Buckingham  had  only  had  time  to  cry  out, 
"Villain!"  and  then  he  drew  out  the  knife,  fell  against  a 
table,  and  died. 

The  council  made  a  mighty  business  of  examining  John 
Felton  about  this  murder,  though  it  was  a  plain  case  enough, 
one  would  think.  He  had  come  seventy  miles  to  do  it,  he 
told  them,  and  he  did  it  for  the  reason  he  had  declared ;  if 
they  put  him  upon  the  rack,  as  that  noble  MARQUIS  OF  DOR- 
SET whom  he  saw  before  him,  had  the  goodness  to  threaten, 
he  gave  that  marquis  warning,  that  he  would  accuse  him  as 
his  accomplice  !  The  King  was  unpleasantly  anxious  to  have 
him  racked,  nevertheless ;  but  as  the  judges  now  found  out 
that  torture  was  contrary  to  the  law  of  England  —  it  is  a  pity 
they  did  not  make  the  discovery  a  little  sooner  —  John  Felton 
was  simply  executed  for  the  murder  he  had  done.  A  murder 
it  undoubtedly  was,  and  not  in  the  least  to  be  defended: 


380  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

though  he  had  freed  England  from  one  of  the  most  profligate, 
contemptible,  and  base  court  favorites  to  whom  it  has  ever 
yielded. 

A  veiy  different  man  now  arose.  This  was  SIR  THOMAS 
WENTWORTH,  a  Yorkshire  gentleman,  who  had  sat  in  Parlia- 
ment for  a  long  time,  and  who  had  favored  arbitrary  and 
haughty  principles,  but  who  had  gone  over  to  the  people's 
side  on  receiving  offence  from  Buckingham.  The  King, 
much  wanting  such  a  man  —  for,  besides  being  naturally 
favorable  to  the  King's  cause,  he  had  great  abilities  —  made 
him  first  a  Baron,  and  then  a  Viscount,  and  gave  him  high 
employment,  and  won  him  most  completely. 

A  Parliament,  however,  was  still  in  existence,  and  was  not 
to  be  won.  On  the  twentieth  of  Januarj-,  one  thousand  six 
hundred  and  twenty-nine,  SIR  JOHN  ELIOT,  a  great  man  who 
had  been  active  in  the  Petition  of  Right,  brought  forward 
other  strong  resolutions  against  the  King's  chief  instruments, 
and  called  upon  the  Speaker  to  put  them  to  the  vote.  To 
this  the  Speaker  answered,  "he  was  commanded  otherwise 
by  the  King,"  and  got  up  to  leave  the  chair  —  which,  accord- 
ing to  the  rules  of  the  House  of  Commons  would  have 
obliged  it  to  adjourn  without  doing  a^-thing  more  —  when 
two  members,  named  Mr.  HOLLIS  and  Mr.  VALENTINE,  held 
him  down.  A  scene  of  great  confusion  arose  among  the  mem- 
bers ;  and  while  many  swords  were  drawn  and  flashing  about, 
the  King,  who  was  kept  informed  of  all  that  was  going  on,  told 
the  captain  of  his  guard  to  go  down  to  the  House  and  force  the 
doors.  The  resolutions  were  by  that  time,  however,  voted, 
and  the  House  adjourned.  Sir  John  Eliot  and  those  two 
members  who  had  held  the  Speaker  down,  were  quickly  sum- 
moned before  the  council.  As  they  claimed  it  to  be  their 
privilege  not  to  answer  out  of  Parliament  for  anj'thing  they 
had  said  in  it,  they  were  committed  to  the  Tower.  The  King 
then  went  down  and  dissolved  the  Parliament,  in  a  speech 
wherein  he  made  mention  of  these  gentlemen  as  "  Vipers  "  — 
which  did  not  do  him  much  good  that  ever  I  have  heard  of. 


CHARLES   THE   FIRST.  381 

As  they  refused  to  gain  their  liberty  by  saying  they  were 
sorry  for  what  they  had  done,  the  King,  always  remarkably 
unforgiving,  never  overlooked  their  offence.  When  they  de- 
manded to  be  brought  up  before  the  Court  of  King's  Bench, 
he  even  resorted  to  the  meanness  of  having  them  moved  about 
from  prison  to  prison,  so  that  the  writs  issued  for  that  purpose 
should  not  legally  find  them.  At  last  they  came  before  the 
court  and  were  sentenced  to  heav}'  fines,  and  to  be  imprisoned 
during  the  King's  pleasure.  When  Sir  John  Eliot's  health 
had  quite  given  way,  and  he  so  longed  for  change  of  air  and 
scene  as  to  petition  for  his  release,  the  King  sent  back  the 
answer  (worthy  of  his  Sowship  himself)  that  the  petition  was 
not  humble  enough.  When  he  sent  another  petition  by  his 
young  son,  in  which  he  pathetically  offered  to  go  back  to 
prison  when  his  health  was  restored,  if  he  might  be  released 
for  its  recovery,  the  King  still  disregarded  it.  When  he  died 
in  the  Tower,  and  his  children  petitioned  to  be  allowed  to  take 
his  body  down  to  Cornwall,  there  to  lay  it  among  the  ashes 
of  his  forefathers,  the  King  returned  for  answer,  "  Let  Sir 
John  Eliot's  body  be  buried  in  the  church  of  that  parish 
where  he  died."  All  this  was  like  a  very  little  King  indeed, 
I  think. 

And  now,  for  twelve  long  years,  steadily  pursuing  his  de- 
sign of  setting  himself  up  and  putting  the  people  down,  the 
King  called  no  Parliament ;  but  ruled  without  one.  If  twelve 
thousand  volumes  were  written  in  his  praise  (as  a  good  many 
have  been)  it  would  still  remain  a  fact,  impossible  to  be  de- 
nied, that  for  twelve  years  King  Charles  the  First  reigned  in 
England  unlawfully  and  despotically,  seized  upon  his  sub- 
jects' goods  and  money  at  his  pleasure,  and  punished  accord- 
ing to  his  unbridled  will  all  who  ventured  to  oppose  him.  It 
is  a  fashion  with  some  people  to  think  that  this  King's  career 
was  cut  short ;  but  I  must  say  myself  that  I  think  he  ran  a 
pretty  long  one. 

WILLIAM  LAUD,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  was  the  King's 
right-hand  man  in  the  religious  part  of  the  putting  down  of 


382  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

the  people's  liberties.  Laud,  who  was  a  sincere  man,  of 
large  learning  but  small  sense  —  for  the  two  things  sometimes 
go  together  in  very  different  quantities  —  though  a  Protestant, 
held  opinions  so  near  those  of  the  Catholics,  that  the  Pope 
wanted  to  make  a  Cardinal  of  him,  if  he  would  have  accepted 
that  favor.  He  looked  upon  vows,  robes,  lighted  candles, 
images,  and  so  forth,  as  amazingly  important  in  religious 
ceremonies  ;  and  he  brought  in  an  immensity  of  bowing  and 
candle-snuffing.  He  also  regarded  archbishops  and  bishops 
as  a  sort  of  miraculous  persons,  and  was  inveterate  in  the 
last  degree  against  any  who  thought  otherwise.  Accordingly, 
he  offered  up  thanks  to  Heaven,  and  was  in  a  state  of  much 
pious  pleasure,  when  a  Scotch  clergyman  named  LEIGHTON, 
was  pilloried,  whipped,  branded  in  the  cheek,  and  had  one  of 
his  ears  cut  off  and  one  of  his  nostrils  slit,  for  calling  bishops 
trumpery  and  the  inventions  of  men.  He  originated  on  a 
Sunday  morning  the  prosecution  of  WILLIAM  PRYNNE,  a  bar- 
rister who  was  of  similar  opinions,  and  who  was  fined  a  thou- 
sand pounds  ;  who  was  pilloried  ;  who  had  his  ears  cut  off  on 
two  occasions  —  one  ear  at  a  time  —  and  who  was  imprisoned 
for  life.  He  highly  approved  of  the  punishment  of  DOCTOR 
BASTWICK,  a  physician ;  who  was  also  fined  a  thousand 
pounds ;  and  who  afterwards  had  his  ears  cut  off,  and  was 
imprisoned  for  life.  These  were  gentle  methods  of  persua- 
sion, some  will  tell  you  ;  I  think,  they  were  rather  calculated 
to  be  alarming  to  the  people. 

In  the  money  part  of  the  putting  down  of  the  people's  lib- 
erties, the  King  was  equally  gentle,  as  some  will  tell  you :  as 
I  think,  equally  alarming.  He  levied  those  duties  of  tonnage 
and  poundage,  and  increased  them  as  he  thought  fit.  He 
granted  monopolies  to  companies  of  merchants  on  their  paying 
him  for  them,  notwithstanding  the  great  complaints  that  had, 
for  years  and  years,  been  made  on  the  subject  of  monopolies. 
He  fined  the  people  for  disobeying  proclamations  issued  by 
his  Sowship  in  direct  violation  of  law.  He  revived  the  de- 
tested Forest  laws,  and  took  private  property  to  himself  as 


CHARLES  THE   FIRST.  383 

his  forest  right.  Above  all,  he  determined  to  have  what  was 
called  Ship  Money ;  that  is  to  sa}*,  money  for  the  support  of 
the  fleet — not  only  from  the  seaports,  but  from  all  the  counties 
of  England  :  having  found  out  that,  in  some  ancient  time  or 
other,  all  the  counties  paid  it.  The  grievance  of  this  ship 
money  being  somewhat  too  strong,  JOHN  CHAMBERS,  a  citizen 
of  London,  refused  to  pay  his  part  of  it.  •  For  this  the  Lord 
Mayor  ordered  John  Chambers  to  prison,  and  for  that  John 
Chambers  brought  a  suit  against  the  Lord  Mayor.  LORD 
SAY,  also,  behaved  like  a  real  nobleman,  and  declared  he 
would  not  pay.  But,  the  sturdiest  and  best  opponent  of  the 
ship  money  was  JOHN  HAMPDEN,  a  gentleman  of  Buckingham- 
shire, who  had  sat  among  the  "vipers"  in  the  House  of 
Commons  when  there  was  such  a  thing,  and  who  had  been 
the  bosom  friend  of  Sir  John  Eliot.  This  case  was  tried 
before  the  twelve  judges  in  the  Court  of  Exchequer,  and 
again  the  King's  lawyers  said  it  was  impossible  that  ship 
money  could  be  wrong,  because  the  King  could  do  no  wrong, 
however  hard  he  tried  —  and  he  really  did  try  very  hard 
during  these  twelve  years.  Seven  of  the  judges  said  that 
was  quite  true,  and  Mr.  Hampden  was  bound  to  pay :  five  of 
the  judges  said  that  was  quite  false,  and  Mr.  Hampden  was 
not  bound  to  pay.  So,  the  King  triumphed  (as  he  thought), 
by  making  Hampden  the  most  popular  man  in  England; 
where  matters  were  getting  to  that  height  now,  that  many 
honest  Englishmen  could  not  endure  their  country,  and  sailed 
away  across  the  seas  to  found  a  colony  in  Massachusetts  Bay 
in  America.  It  is  said  that  Hampden  himself  and  his  rela- 
tion OLIVER  CROMWELL  were  going  with  a  company  of  such 
voyagers,  and  were  actually  on  board  ship,  when  they  were 
stopped  by  a  proclamation,  prohibiting  sea  captains  to  carry 
out  such  passengers  without  the  royal  license.  But  O !  it 
would  have  been  well  for  the  King  if  he  had  let  them  go ! 

This  was  the  state  of  England.  If  Laud  had  been  a  mad- 
man just  broke  loose,  he  could  not  have  done  more  mischief 
than  he  did  in  Scotland.  In  his  endeavors  (in  which  he  was 


384  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

seconded  by  the  King,  then  in  person  in  that  part  of  his  do- 
minions) to  force  his  own  ideas  of  bishops,  and  his  own 
religious  forms  and  ceremonies,  upon  the  Scotch,  he  roused 
that  nation  to  a  perfect  frenzy.  They  formed  a  solemn 
league,  which  they  called  The  Covenant,  for  the  preservation 
of  their  own  religious  forms ;  they  rose  in  arms  throughout 
the  whole  country ;  they  summoned  all  their  men  to  prayers 
and  sermons  twice  a  day  by  beat  of  drum  ;  they  sang  psalms, 
in  which  the}'  compared  their  enemies  to  all  the  evil  spirits 
that  ever  were  heard  of;  and  they  solemn!}-  vowed  to  smite 
them  with  the  sword.  At  first  the  King  tried  force,  then 
treat}-,  then  a  Scottish  Parliament  which  did  not  answer  at 
all.  Then  he  tried  the  EARL  OF  STRAFFORD,  formerly  Sir 
Thomas  Wentworth ;  who,  as  LORD  WENTWORTH,  had  been 
governing  Ireland.  He,  too,  had  carried  it  with  a  very  high 
hand  there,  though  to  the  benefit  and  prosperity  of  that 
country. 

Strafford  and  Laud  were  for  conquering  the  Scottish  people 
by  force  of  arms.  Other  lords  who  were  taken  into  council, 
recommended  that  a  Parliament  should  at  last  be  called ;  to 
which  the  King  unwillingly  consented.  So,  on  the  thirteenth 
of  April,  one  thousand  six  hundred  and  forty,  that  then 
strange  sight,  a  Parliament,  was  seen  at  Westminster.  It  is 
called  the  Short  Parliament,  for  it  lasted  a  very  little  while. 
While  the  members  were  all  looking  at  one  another,  doubtful 
who  would  dare  to  speak,  MR.  PYM  arose  and  set  forth  all 
that  the  King  had  done  unlawfully  during  the  past  twelve 
years,  and  what  was  the  position  to  which  England  was 
reduced.  This  great  example  set,  other  members  took  cour- 
age and  spoke  the  truth  freely,  though  with  great  patience 
and  moderation.  The  King,  a  little  frightened,  sent  to  say 
that  if  they  would  grant  him  a  certain  sum  on  certain  terms, 
no  more  ship  money  should  be  raised.  They  debated  the 
matter  for  two  days ;  and  then,  as  they  would  not  give  him 
all  he  asked  without  promise  or  inquiiy,  he  dissolved  them. 

But  they  knew  very  well  that  he  must  have  a  Parliament 


CHAKLES  THE  FIRST.  385 

now ;  and  he  began  to  make  that  discovery  too,  though  rather 
late  in  the  day.  Wherefore,  on  the  twenty-fourth  of  Septem- 
ber, being  then  at  York  with  an  army  collected  against  -the 
Scottish  people,  but  his  own  men  sullen  and  discontented  like 
the  rest  of  the  nation,  the  King  told  the  great  council  of  the 
Lords,  whom  he  had  called  to  meet  him  there,  that  he  would 
summon  another  Parliament  to  assemble  on  the  third  of  No- 
vember. The  soldiers  of  the  Covenant  had  now  forced  their 
way  into  England  and  had  taken  possession  of  the  northern 
counties,  where  the  coals  are  got.  As  it  would  never  do  to 
be  without  coals,  and  as  the  King's  troops  could  make  no 
head  against  the  Covenanters  so  full  of  gloomy  zeal,  a  truce 
was  made,  and  a  treaty  with  Scotland  was  taken  into  con- 
sideration. Meanwhile  the  northern  counties  paid  the  Cov- 
enanters to  leave  the  coals  alone,  and  keep  quiet. 

We  have  now  disposed  of  the  Short  Parliament.  We 
have  next  to  see  what  memorable  things  were  done  by  the 
Long  one. 


SECOND  PART. 

THE  Long  Parliament  assembled  on  the  third  of  November, 
one  thousand  six  hundred  and  forty.  On  that  day  week  the 
Earl  of  Strafford  arrived  from  York,  very  sensible  that  the 
spirited  and  determined  men  who  formed  that  Parliament 
were  no  friends  towards  him,  who  had  not  only  deserted  the 
cause  of  the  people,  but  who  had  on  all  occasions  opposed 
himself  to  their  liberties.  The  King  told  him,  for  his  com- 
fort, that  the  Parliament  "  should  not  hurt  one  hair  of  his 
head."  But,  on  the  very  next  day  Mr.  Pym,  in  the  House  of 
Commons,  and  with  great  solemnity,  impeached  the  Earl  of 
Strafford  as  a  traitor.  He  was  immediately  taken  into  cus- 
tody and  fell  from  Tiis  proud  height. 

It  was  the  twenty-second  of  March  before  he  was  brought 
to  trial  in  Westminster  Hall ;  where,  although  he  was  very 

25 


386  A   CHILD'S   HISTOKY   OF  ENGLAND. 

ill  and  suffered  great  pain,  he  defended  himself  with  such 
ability  and  majesty,  that  it  was  doubtful  whether  he  would 
not  get  the  best  of  it.  But  on  the  thirteenth  day  of  the 
trial,  Pym  produced  in  the  House  of  Commons  a  copy  of 
some  notes  of  a  council,  found  by  young  SIR  HARRY  VANE  in 
a  red  velvet  cabinet  belonging  to  his  father  (Secretary  Vane, 
who  sat  at  the  council-table  with  the  Earl) ,  in  which  Strafford 
had  distinctly  told  the  King  that  he  was  free  from  all  rules 
and  obligations  of  government,  and  might  do  with  his  people 
whatever  he  liked  ;  and  in  which  he  had  added  — ' '  You  have 
an  arm}7  in  Ireland  that  you  may  employ  to  reduce  this  king- 
dom to  obedience."  It  was  not  clear  whether  by  the  words 
"this  kingdom,"  he  had  really  meant  England  or  Scotland; 
but  the  Parliament  contended  that  he  meant  England,  and 
this  was  treason.  At  the  same  sitting  of  the  House  of  Com- 
mons it  was  resolved  to  bring  in  a  bill  of  attainder  declaring 
the  treason  to  have  been  committed :  in  preference  to  pro- 
ceeding with  the  trial  by  impeachment,  which  would  have 
required  the  treason  to  be  proved. 

So,  a  bill  was  brought  in  at  once,  was  carried  through  the 
House  of  Commons  by  a  large  majority,  and  was  sent  up  to 
the  House  of  Lords.  While  it  was  still  uncertain  whether 
the  House  of  Lords  would  pass  it  and  the  King  consent 
to  it,  Pym  disclosed  to  the  House  of  Commons  that  the 
King  and  Queen  had  both  been  plotting  with  the  officers  of 
the  army  to  bring  up  the  soldiers  and  control  the  Parliament, 
and  also  to  introduce  two  hundred  soldiers  into  the  Tower  of 
London  to  effect  the  Earl's  escape.  The  plotting  with  the 
army  was  revealed  by  one  GEORGE  GORING,  the  son  of  a  lord 
of  that  name :  a  bad  fellow  who  was  one  of  the  original 
plotters,  and  turned  traitor.  The  King  had  actually  given 
his  warrant  for  the  admission  of  the  two  hundred  men  into 
the  Tower,  and  they  would  have  got  in  too,  but  for  the 
refusal  of  the  governor  —  a  sturdy  Scotchman  of  the  name 
of  BALPOUR  —  to  admit  them.  These  matters  being  made 
public,  great  numbers  of  people  began  to  riot  outside  the 


CHARLES  THE  FIRST.  387 

Houses  of  Parliament,  and  to  cry  out  for  the  execution  of 
the  Earl  of  Strafford,  as  one  of  the  King's  chief  instruments 
against  them.  The  bill  passed  the  House  of  Lords  while 
the  people  were  in  this  state  of  agitation,  and  was  laid  before 
the  King  for  his  assent,  together  with  another  bill  declaring 
that  the  Parliament  then  assembled  should  not  be  dissolved 
or  adjourned  without  their  own  consent.  The  King  —  not 
unwilling  to  save  a  faithful  servant,  though  he  had  no  great 
attachment  for  him  —  was  in  some  doubt  what  to  do ;  but 
he  gave  his  consent  to  both  bills,  although  he  in  his  heart 
believed  that  the  bill  against  the  Earl  of  Strafford  was  un- 
lawful and  unjust.  The  Earl  had  written  to  him,  telling  him 
that  he  was  willing  to  die  for  his  sake.  But  he  had  not 
expected  that  his  royal  master  would  take  him  at  his  word 
quite  so  readily ;  for,  when  he  heard  his  doom,  he  laid  his 
hand  upon  his  heart,  and  said,  "  Put  not  your  trust  in 
Princes ! " 

The  King,  who  never  could  be  straightforward  and  plain, 
through  one  single  day  or  through  one  single  sheet  of  paper, 
wrote  a  letter  to  the  Lords,  and  sent  it  b}T  the  young  Prince 
of  Wales,  entreating  them  to  prevail  with  the  Commons  that 
"  that  unfortunate  man  should  fulfil  the  natural  course  of  his 
life  in  a  close  imprisonment."  In  a  postscript  to  the  very 
same  letter,  he  added,  "If  he  must  die,  it  were  charity  to 
reprieve  him  till  Saturday."  If  there  had  been  any  doubt  of 
his  fate,  this  weakness  and  meanness  would  have  settled  it. 
The  very  next  day,  which  was  the  twelfth  of  May,  he  was 
brought  out  to  be  beheaded  on  Tower  Hill. 

Archbishop  Laud,  who  had  been  so  fond  of  having  people's 
ears  cropped  off  and  their  noses  slit,  was  now  confined  in  the 
Tower  too ;  and  when  the  Earl  went  b.y  his  window  to  his 
death,  he  was  there,  at  his  request,  to  give  him  his  blessing. 
They  had  been  great  friends  in  the  King's  cause,  and  the 
Earl  had  written  to  him  in  the  days  of  their  power  that  he 
thought  it  would  be  an  admirable  thing  to  have  Mr.  Hamp- 
den  publicly  whipped  for  refusing  to  pay  the  ship  money. 


388  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

However,  those  high  and  mighty  doings  were  over  now,  and 
the  Earl  went  his  way  to  death  with  dignity  and  heroism. 
The  Governor  wished  him  to  get  into  a  coach  at  the  Tower 
gate,  for  fear  the  people  should  tear  him  to  pieces ;  but  he 
said  it  was  all  one  to  him  whether  he  died  by  the  axe  or  by 
the  people's  hands.  So,  he  walked,  with  a  firm  tread  and 
a  stately  look,  and  sometimes  pulled  off  his  hat  to  them  as 
he  passed  along.  They  were  profoundly  quiet.  He  made  a 
speech  on  the  scaffold  from  some  notes  he  had  prepared 
(the  paper  was  found  lying  there  after  his  head  was  struck 
off),  and  one  blow  of  the  axe  killed  him,  in  the  forty-ninth 
year  of  his  age. 

This  bold  and  daring  act,  the  Parliament  accompanied  by 
other  famous  measures,  all  originating  (as  even  this  did)  in 
the  King's  having  so  grossly  and  so  long  abused  his  power. 
The  name  of  DELINQUENTS  was  applied  to  all  sheriffs  and 
other  officers  who  had  been  concerned  in  raising  the  ship 
money,  or  any  other  money,  from  the  people,  in  an  unlawful 
manner ;  the  Hampden  judgment  was  reversed ;  the  judges 
who  had  decided  against  Hampden  were  called  upon  to  give 
large  securities  that  the}7  would  take  such  consequences  as 
Parliament  might  impose  upon  them  ;  and  one  was  arrested 
as  he  sat  in  High  Court,  and  carried  off  to  prison.  Laud 
was  impeached  ;  the  unfortunate  victims  whose  ears  had  been 
cropped  and  whose  noses  had  been  slit,  were  brought  out  of 
prison  in  triumph ;  and  a  bill  was  passed  declaring  that  a 
Parliament  should  be  called  every  third  year,  and  that  if  the 
King  and  the  King's  officers  did  not  call  it,  the  people  should 
assemble  of  themselves  and  summon  it,  as  of  their  own  right 
and  power.  Great  illuminations  and  rejoicings  took  place 
over  all  these  things,  and  the  country  was  wildly  excited. 
That  the  Parliament  took  advantage  of  this  excitement  and 
stirred  them  up  by  every  means,  there  is  no  doubt ;  but  you. 
are  always  to  remember  those  twelve  long  years,  during 
which  the  King  had  tried  so  hard  whether  he  really  could  do 
any  wrong  or  not. 


CHAELES   THE   FIRST.  389 

All  this  time  there  was  a  great  religious  outcry  against  the 
right  of  the  Bishops  to  sit  in  Parliament ;  to  which  the  Scot- 
tish people  particularly  objected.  The  English  were  divided 
on  this  subject,  and,  partly  on  this  account  and  partly  be- 
cause they  had  had  foolish  expectations  that  the  Parliament 
would  be  able  to  take  off  nearly  all  the  taxes,  numbers  of 
them  sometimes  wavered  and  inclined  towards  the  King. 

I  believe  myself,  that  if,  at  this  or  almost  an}-  other  period 
of  his  life,  the  King  could  have  been  trusted  by  any  man  not 
out  of  his  senses,  he  might  have  saved  himself  and  kept  his 
throne.  But,  on  the  English  army  being  disbanded,  he 
plotted  with  the  officers  again,  as  he  had  done  before,  and 
established  the  fact  beyond  all  doubt  ,by  putting  his  signature 
of  approval  to  a  petition  against  the  Parliamentary  leaders, 
which  was  drawn  up  by  certain  officers.  When  the  Scottish 
army  was  disbanded,  he  went  to  Edinburgh  in  four  days  — 
which  was  going  very  fast  at  that  time  —  to  plot  again,  and 
so  darkly  too,  that  it  is  difficult  to  decide  what  his  whole 
object  was.  Some  suppose  that  he  wanted  to  gain  over  the 
Scottish  Parliament,  as  he  did  in  fact  gain  over,  by  presents 
and  favors,  many  Scottish  lords  and  men  of  power.  Some 
think  that  he  went  to  get  proofs  against  the  Parliamentary 
leaders  in  England  of  their  having  treasonably  invited  the 
Scottish  people  to  come  and  help  them.  With  whatever 
object  he  went  to  Scotland,  he  did  little  good  by  going.  At 
the  instigation  of  the  EARL  OF  MONTROSE,  a  desperate  man 
who  was  then  in  prison  for  plotting,  he  tried  to  kidnap  three 
Scottish  lords  who  escaped.  A  committee  of  the  Parliament 
at  home,  who  had  followed  to  watch  him,  writing  an  account 
of  this  INCIDENT,  as  it  was  called,  to  the  Parliament,  the  Par- 
liament made  a  fresh  stir  about  it ;  were,  or  feigned  to  be, 
much  alarmed  for  themselves ;  and  wrote  to  the  EARL  OP 
ESSEX,  the  commander-in-chief,  for  a  guard  to  protect  them. 

It  is  not  absolutely  proved  that  the  King  plotted  in  Ireland 
besides,  but  it  is  very  probable  that  he  did,  and  that  the 
Queen  did,  and  that  he  had  some  wild  hope  of  gaining  the 


390  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

Irish  people  over  to  his  side  by  favoring  a  rise  among  them. 
Whether  or  ho,  they  did  rise  in  a  most  brutal  and  savage 
rebellion ;  in  which,  encouraged  by  their  priests,  they  com- 
mitted such  atrocities  upon  numbers  of  the  English,  of  both 
sexes  and  of  all  ages,  as  nobody  could  believe,  but  for  their 
being  related  on  oath  by  eye-witnesses.  Whether  one  hun- 
dred thousand  or  two  hundred  thousand  Protestants  were 
.  murdered  in  this  outbreak,  is  uncertain ;  but,  that  it  was  as 
ruthless  and  barbarous  an  outbreak  as  ever  was  known  among 
an}-  savage  people,  is  certain. 

The  King  came  home  from  Scotland,  determined  to  make 
a  great  struggle  for  his  lost  power.  He  believed  that,  through 
his  presents  and  favors,  Scotland  would  take  no  part  against 
him ;  and  the  Lord  Maj-or  of  London  received  him  with  such 
a  magnificent  dinner  that  he  thought  he  must  have  become 
popular  again  in  England.  It  would  take  a  good  many  Lord 
Mayors,  however,  to  make  a  people,  and  the  King  soon  found 
himself  mistaken. 

Not  so  soon,  though,  but  that  there  was  a  great  opposition 
in  the  Parliament  to  a  celebrated  paper  put  forth  by  Pym  and 
Hampden  and  the  rest,  called  "THE  REMONSTRANCE,"  which 
set  forth  all  the  illegal  acts  that  the  King  had  ever  done,  but 
politely  laid  the  blame  of  them  on  his  bad  advisers.  Even 
when  it  was  passed  and  presented  to  him,  the  King  still 
thought  himself  strong  enough  to  discharge  Balfour  from  his 
command  in  the  Tower,  and  to  put  in  his  place  a  man  of  bad 
character ;  to  whom  the  Commons  instantly  objected,  and 
whom  he  was  obliged  to  abandon.  At  this  time,  the  old  out- 
cry about  the  Bishops  became  louder  than  ever,  and  the  old 
Archbishop  of  York  was  so  near  being  murdered  as  he  went 
down  to  the  House  of  Lords  —  being  laid  hold  of  by  the 
mob  and  violentl}-  knocked  about,  in  return  for  veiy  foolishly 
scolding  a  shrill  boy  who  was  yelping  out  "  No  Bishops  !  " 
that  he  sent  for  all  the  Bishops  who  were  in  town,  and  pro- 
posed to  them  to  sign  a  declaration  that,  as  they  could  no 
longer  without  danger  to  their  lives  attend  their  duty  in  Par- 


CHARLES  THE  FIRST.  391 

Hament,  the}'  protested  against  the  lawfulness  of  everything 
done  in  their  absence.  This  the}'  asked  the  King  to  send  to 
the  House  of  Lords,  which  he  did.  Then  the  House  of  Com- 
mons impeached  the  whole  party  of  Bishops  and  sent  them, 
off  to  the  Tower. 

Taking  no  warning  from  this  ;  but  encouraged  by  there  be- 
ing a  moderate  party  in  'the  Parliament  who  objected  to  these 
strong  measures,  the  King,  on  the  third  of  January,  one  thou- 
sand six  hundred  and  forty-two,  took  the  rashest  step  that 
ever  was  taken  by  mortal  man. 

Of  his  own  accord  and  without  advice,  he  sent  the  Attorney- 
General  to  the  House  of  Lords,  to  accuse  of  treason  certain 
members  of  Parliament  who  as  popular  leaders  were  the  most 
obnoxious  to  him  ;  LORD  KIMBOLTON,  SIR  ARTHUR  HASELRIG, 
DENZIL  HOLLIS,  JOHX  PYM  (the}*  used  to  call  him  King  Pym, 
he  possessed  such  power  and  looked  so  big) ,  JOHN  HAMPDEN, 
and  WILLIAM  STRODE.  The  houses  of  those  members  he 
caused  to  be  entered,  and  their  papers  to  be  sealed  up.  At 
the  same  time  he  sent  a  messenger  to  the  House  of  Commons 
demanding  to  have  the  five  gentlemen  who  were  members  of 
that  House  immediately  produced.  To  this  the  House  replied 
that  they  should  appear  as  soon  as  there  was  any  legal  charge 
against  them,  and  immediately  adjourned. 

Next  day,  the  House  of  Commons  send  into  the  City  to  let 
the  Lord  Mayor  know  that  their  privileges  are  invaded  by  the 
King,  and  that  there  is  no  safety  for  anybody  or  anything. 
Then,  when  the  five  members  are  gone  out  of  the  way,  down 
comes  the  King  himself,  with  all  his  guard  and  from  two  to 
three  hundred  gentlemen  and  soldiers,  of  whom  the  greater 
part  were  armed.  These  he  leaves  in  the  hall ;  and  then, 
with  his  nephew  at  his  side,  goes  into  the  House,  takes  on"  his 
hat,  and  walks  up  to  the  Speaker's  chair.  The  Speaker 
leaves  it,  the  King  stands  in  front  of  it,  looks  about  him 
steadily  for  a  little  while,  and  says  he  has  come  for  those  five 
members.  No  one  speaks,  and  then  he  calls  John  Pym  by 
name.  No  one  speaks,  and  then  he  calls  Denzil  Hollis  by 


392  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

name.  No  one  speaks,  and  then  he  asks  the  Speaker  of  the 
House  where  those  five  members  are  ?  The  Speaker,  answer- 
ing on  his  knee,  nobly  replies  that  he  is  the  servant  of  that 
House,  and  that  he  has  neither  eyes  to  see,  nor  tongue  to 
speak,  anything  but  what  the  House  commands  him.  Upon 
this,  the  King,  beaten  from  that  time  evermore,  replies  that 
he  will  seek  them  himself,  for  they  have  committed  treason  ; 
and  goes  out,  with  his  hat  in  his  hand,  amid  some  audible 
murmurs  from  the  members. 

No  words  can  describe  the  hurry  that  arose  out  of  doors 
when  all  this  was  known.  The  five  members  had  gone  for 
safety  to  a  house  in  Coleman  Street,  in  the  City,  where  they 
were  guarded  all  night ;  and  indeed  the  whole  city  watched  in 
arms  like  an  army.  At  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning,  the  King 
already  frightened  at  what  he  had  done,  came  to  the  Guild- 
hall, with  only  half  a  dozen  lords,  and  made  a  speech  to  the 
people,  hoping  they  would  not  shelter  those  whom  he  accused 
of  treason.  Next  da}',  he  issued  a  proclamation  for  the  ap- 
prehension of  the  five  members ;  but  the  Parliament  minded 
it  so  little  that  they  made  great  arrangements  for  having 
them  brought  down  to  Westminster  in  great  state,  five  days 
afterwards.  The  King  was  so  alarmed  now  at  his  own  im- 
prudence, if  not  for  his  own  safet}',  that  he  left  his  palace  at 
Whitehall,  and  went  away  with  his  Queen  and  children  to 
Hampton  Court. 

It  was  the  eleventh  of  May,  when  the  five  members  were 
carried  in  state  and  triumph  to  Westminster.  They  were 
taken  by  water.  The  river  could  not  be  seen  for  the  boats 
on  it ;  and  the  five  members  were  hemmed  in  b}'  barges  full 
of  men  and  great  guns,  read}'  to  protect  them,  at  an}'  cost. 
Along  the  Strand  a  large  body  of  the  train-bands  of  London, 
under  their  commander,  SKIPPON,  marched  to  be  ready  to  as- 
sist the  little  fleet.  Beyond  them  came  a  crowd  who  choked 
the  streets,  roaring  incessantly  about  the  Bishops,  and  the 
Papists,  and  crying  out  contemptuously  as  they  passed  White- 
hall, "  What  has  become  of  the  King?"  With  this  great 


CHARLES  THE   FIRST.  393 

noise  outside  the  House  of  Commons,  and  with  great  silence 
within,  Mr.  Pym  rose  and  informed  the  House  of  the  great 
kindness  with  which  they  had  been  received  in  the  City. 
Upon  that,  the  House  called  the  sheriffs  in  and  thanked  them, 
and  requested  the  train-bands,  under  their  commander  Skip- 
pon,  to  guard  the  House  of  Commons  every  day.  Then, 
came  four  thousand  men  on  horseback  out  of  Buckingham- 
shire, offering  their  services  as  a  guard  too,  and  bearing  a 
petition  to  the  King,  complaining  of  the  injury  that  had  been 
done  to  Mr.  Hampden,  who  was  their  county  man  and  much 
beloved  and  honored. 

When  the  King  set  off  for  Hampton  Court,  the  gentlemen 
and  soldiers  who  had  been  with  him  followed  him  out  of  town 
as  far  as  Kingston-upon-Thames ;  next  da}r,  Lord  Digby 
came  to  them  .from  the  King  at  Hampton  Court,  in  his  coach 
and  six,  to  inform  them  that  the  King  accepted  their  protec- 
tion. This,  the  Parliament  said,  was  making  war  against  the 
kingdom,  and  Lord  Digby  fled  abroad.  The  Parliament  then 
immediately  applied  themselves  to  getting  hold  of  the  mili- 
taiy  power  of  the  country,  well  knowing  that  the  King  was 
already  trying  hard  to  use  it  against  them,  and  that  he  had 
secretly  sent  the  Earl  of  Newcastle  to  Hull,  to  secure  a  valu- 
able magazine  of  arms  and  gunpowder  that  was  there.  In 
those  times,  every  county  had  its  own  magazines  of  arms  and 
powder,  for  its  own  train-bands  or  militia ;  so  the  Parliament 
brought  in  a  bill  claiming  the  right  (which  up  to  this  time  had 
belonged  to  the  King)  of  appointing  the  Lord  Lieutenants  of 
counties,  who  commanded  these  train-bands  ;  also,  of  having 
all  the  forts,  castles,  and  garrisons  in  the  kingdom,  put  into 
the  hands  of  such  governors  as  they,  the  Parliament,  could 
confide  in.  It  also  passed  a  law  depriving  the  Bishops  of 
their  votes.  The  King  gave  his  assent  to  that  bill,  but  would 
not  abandon  the  right  of  appointing  the  Lord  Lieutenants, 
though  he  said  he  was  willing  to  appoint  such  as  might  be 
suggested  to  him  by  the  Parliament.  When  the  Earl  of 
Pembroke  asked  him  whether  he  would  not  give  way  on  that 


394  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

question  for  a  time,  he  said,  "  By  God  !  not  for  one  hour ! " 
and  upon  this  he  and  the  Parliament  went  to  war. 

His  young  daughter  was  betrothed  to  the  Prince  of  Orange. 
On  pretence  of  taking  her  to  the  country  of  her  future  hus- 
band, the  Queen  was  already  got  safely  awaj-  to  Holland, 
there  to  pawn  the  Crown  jewels  for  mone}r  to  raise  an  army 
on  the  King's  side.  The  Lord  Admiral  being  sick,  the  House 
of  Commons  now  named  the  Earl  of  Warwick  to  hold  his 
place  for  a  year.  The  King  named  another  gentleman  ;  the 
House  of  Commons  took  its  own  wa}',  and  the  Earl  of  War- 
wick became  Lord  Admiral  without  the  King's  consent.  The 
Parliament  sent  orders  down  to  Hull  to  have  that  magazine 
removed  to  London ;  the  King  went  down  to  Hull  to  take  it 
himself.  The  citizens  would  not  admit  him  into  the  town, 
and  the  governor  would  not  admit  him  into  the  castle.  The 
Parliament  resolved  that  whatever  the  two  Houses  passed, 
and  the  King  would  not  consent  to,  should  be  called  an  OR- 
DINANCE, and  should  be  as  much  a  law  as  if  he  did  consent 
to  it.  The  King  protested  against  this,  and  gave  notice  that 
these  ordinances  were  not  to  be  obej^ed.  The  King,  attended 
by  the  majorit}-  of  the  House  of  Peers,  and  by  man}-  members 
of  the  House  of  Commons,  established  himself  at  York.  The 
Chancellor  went  to  him  with  the  Great  Seal,  and  the  Parlia- 
ment made  a  new  Great  Seal.  The  Queen  sent  over  a  ship 
full  of  arms  and  ammunition,  and  the  King  issued  letters  to 
borrow  money  at  high  interest.  The  Parliament  raised  twenty 
regiments  of  foot  and  sevent\T-five  troops  of  horse ;  and  the 
people  willingly  aided  them  with  their  mone}*,  plate,  jewelry, 
and  trinkets  —  the  married  women  even  with  their  wedding- 
rings.  Every  member  of  Parliament  who  could  raise  a  troop 
or  a  regiment  in  his  own  part  of  the  country,  dressed  it  ac- 
cording to  his  taste  and  in  his  own  colors,  and  commanded  it. 
Foremost  among  them  all,  OLIVER  CROMWELL  raised  a  troop 
of  horse  —  thoroughly  in  earnest  and  thoroughly  well  armed  — 
who  were,  perhaps,  the  best  soldiers  that  ever  were  seen. 

In  some  of  their  proceedings,  this  famous  Parliament  passed 


CHARLES   THE   FIRST.  395 

the  bounds  of  previous  law  and  custom,  yielded  to  and  fa- 
vored riotous  assemblages  of  the  people,  and  acted  tvranni- 
call}'  in  imprisoning  some  who  differed  from  the  popular 
leaders.  But  again,  you  are  always  to  remember  that  the 
twelve  years  during  which  the  King  had  had  his  own  wilful 
way,  had  gone  before ;  and  that  nothing  could  make  the 
times  what  they  might,  could,  would,  or  should  have  been,  if 
those  twelve  years  had  never  rolled  away. 


THIRD  PART. 

I  SHALL  not  try  to  relate  the  particulars  of  the  great  civil  war 
between  King  Charles  the  First  and  the  Long  Parliament, 
which  lasted  nearly  four  years,  and  a  full  account  of  which 
would  fill  many  large  books.  It  was  a  sad  thing  that 
Englishmen  should  once  more  be  fighting  against  Englishmen 
on  English  ground  ;  but,  it  is  some  consolation  to  know  that 
on  both  sides  there  was  great  humanity,  forbearance,  and 
honor.  The  soldiers  of  the  Parliament  were  far  more  remark- 
able for  these  good  qualities  than  the  soldiers  of  the  King 
(many  of  whom  fought  for  mere  pay  without  much  caring  for 
the  cause)  ;  but  those  of  the  nobility  and  gentry  who  were  on 
the  King's  side  were  so  brave,  and  so  faithful  to  him,  that 
their  conduct  cannot  but  command  our  highest  admiration. 
Among  them  were  great  numbers  of  Catholics,  who  took  the 
royal  side  because  the  Queen  was  so  strongly  of  their  persua- 
sion. 

The  King  might  have  distinguished  some  of  these  gallant 
spirits,  if  he  had  been  as  generous  a  spirit  himself,  by  giving 
them  the  command  of  his  army.  Instead  of  that,  however, 
true  to  his  old  high  notions  of  royalty,  lie  entrusted  it  to  his 
two  nephews,  PRINCE  RUPERT  and  PRINCE  MAURICE,  who 
were  of  royal  blood  and  came  over  from  abroad  to  help  him. 
It  might  have  been  better  for  him  if  they  had  stayed  away  ; 


396  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

since  Prince  Rupert  was  an  impetuous  hot-headed  fellow, 
whose  only  idea  was  to  dash  into  battle  at  all  times  and  sea- 
sons, and  lay  about  him. 

The  general-in-chief  of  the  Parliamentary  army  was  the 
Earl  of  Essex,  a  gentleman  of  honor  and  an  excellent  soldier. 
A  little  while  before  the  war  broke  out,  there  had  been  some 
rioting  at  Westminster  between  certain  officious  law  students 
and  noisy  soldiers,  and  the  shopkeepers  and  their  apprentices, 
and  the  general  people  in  the  streets.  At  that  time  the  King's 
friends  called  the  crowd,  Roundheads,  because  the  apprentices 
wore  short  hair ;  the  crowd,  in  return,  called  their  opponents 
Cavaliers,  meaning  that  the}'  were  a  blustering  set,  who  pre- 
tended to  be  very  militaiy.  These  two  words  now  began  to 
be  used  to  distinguish  the  two  sides  in  the  civil  war.  The 
Royalists  also  called  the  Parliamentary  men  Rebels  and 
Rogues,  while  the  Parliamentary  men  called  them  Malignants 
and  spoke  of  themselves  as  the  Godly,  the  Honest,  and  so 
forth. 

The  war  broke  out  at  Portsmouth,  where  that  double  traitor 
Goring  had  again  gone  over  to  the  King  and  was  besieged  by 
the  Parliamentary  troops.  Upon  this,  the  King  proclaimed 
the  Earl  of  Essex  and  the  officers  serving  under  him,  traitors, 
and  called  upon  his  loyal  subjects  to  meet  him  in  arms  at 
Nottingham  on  the  twenty-fifth  of  August.  But  his  loyal 
subjects  came  about  him  in  scanty  numbers,  and  it  was  a 
•windy  gloon^  day,  and  the  Royal  Standard  got  blown  down, 
and  the  whple  affair  was  very  melancholy.  The  chief  engage- 
ments after  this,  took  place  in  the  vale  of  the  Red  Horse  near 
Banbiuy,  at  Brentford,  at  Devizes,  at  Chalgrave  Field  (where 
Mr.  Hampden  was  so  sorely  wounded  while  fighting  at  the 
head  of  his  men,  that  he  died  within  a  week),  at  Newbury 
(in  which  battle  LORD  FALKLAND,  one  of  the  best  noblemen 
on  the  King's  side,  was  killed),  at  Leicester,  at  Naseby,  at 
Winchester,  at  Marston  Moor  near  York,  at  Newcastle,  and 
in  man}'  other  parts  of  England  and  Scotland.  These  battles 
were  attended  with  various  successes.  At  one  time,  the  King 


CHARLES   THE   FIRST.  397 

was  victorious  ;  at  another  time,  the  Parliament.  But  almost 
all  the  great  and  busy  towns  were  against  the  King  ;  and  when 
it  was  considered  necessary  to  fortify  London,  all  ranks  of 
people,  from  laboring  men  and  women,  up  to  lords  and  ladies, 
worked  hard  together  with  heartiness  and  good  will.  The 
most  distinguished  leaders  on  the  Parliamentary  side  were 
HAMPDEN,  SIR  THOMAS  FAIRFAX,  and  above  all,  OLIVER  CROM- 
WELL, and  his  son-in-law  IRETON. 

During  the  whole  of  this  war,  the  people,  to  whom  it  was 
very  expensive  and  irksome,  and  to  whom  it  was  made  the 
more  distressing  by  almost  eveiy  family  being  divided  —  some 
of  its  members  attaching  themselves  to  one  side  and  some  to 
the  other  —  were  over  and  over  again  most  anxious  for  peace. 
So  were  some  of  the  best  men  in  each  cause.  According!}', 
treaties  of  peace  were  discussed  between  commissioners  from 
the  Parliament  and  the  King  ;  at  York,  at  Oxford  (where  the 
King  held  a  little  Parliament  of  his  own),  and  at  Uxbridge. 
But  the}'  came  to  nothing.  In  all  these  negotiations,  and  in 
all  his  difficulties,  the  King  showed  himself  at  his  best.  He 
was  courageous,  cool,  self-possessed,  and  clever ;  but,  the  old 
taint  of  his  character  was  alwa}rs  in  him,  and  he  was  never 
for  one  single  moment  to  be  trusted.  Lord  Clarendon,  the 
historian,  one  of  his  highest  admirers,  supposes  that  he  had 
unhappily  promised  the  Queen  never  to  make  peace  without 
her  consent,  and  that  this  must  often  be  taken  as  his  excuse. 
He  never  kept  his  word  from  night  to  morning.  He  signed  a 
cessation  of  hostilities  with  the  blood-stained  Irish  rebels  for  a 
sum  of  money,  and  invited  the  Irish  regiments  over,  to  help 
him  against  the  Parliament.  In  the  battle  of  Naseby,  his  cab- 
inet was  seized  and  was  found  to  contain  a  correspondence 
with  the  Queen,  in  which  he  expressly  told  her  that  he  had 
deceived  the  Parliament  —  a  mongrel  Parliament,  he  called  it 
now,  as  an  improvement  on  his  old  term  of  vipers  —  in  pre- 
tending to  recognize  it  and  to  treat  with  it ;  and  from  which  it 
further  appeared  that  he  had  long  been  in  secret  treaty  with 
the  Duke  of  Lorraine  for  a  foreign  army  of  ten  thousand 


398  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

men.  Disappointed  in  this,  he  sent  a  most  devoted  friend  of 
his,  the  EARL  OF  GLAMORGAN,  to  Ireland,  to  conclude  a  secret 
treaty  with  the  Catholic  powers,  to  send  him  an  Irish  army  of 
ten  thousand  men ;  in  return  for  which  he  was  to  bestow 
great  favors  on  the  Catholic  religion.  And,  when  this  treaty 
who  discovered  in  the  carriage  of  a  fighting  Irish  Archbishop 
who  was  killed  in  one  of  the  many  skirmishes  of  those  days, 
he  basely  denied  and  deserted  his  attached  friend,  the  Earl,  on 
his  being  charged  with  high  treason  ;  and  —  even  worse  than 
this  —  had  left  blanks  in  the  secret  instructions  he  gave  him 
with  his  own  kingly  hand,  expressly  that  he  might  thus  save 
himself. 

At  last,  on  the  twenty-seventh  day  of  April,  one  thousand 
six  hundred  and  forty-six,  the  King  found  himself  in  the  city 
of  Oxford,  so  surrounded  by  the  Parliamentary  arm}-  who 
were  closing  in  upon  him  on  all  sides  that  he  felt  that  if  he 
would  escape  he  must  delay  no  longer.  So,  that  night,  hav- 
ing altered  the  cut  of  his  hair  and  beard,  he  was  dressed  up 
as  a  servant  and  put  upon  a  horse  with  a  cloak  strapped  be- 
hind him,  and  rode  out  of  the  town  behind  one  of  his  own 
faithful  followers,  with  a  clergyman  of  that  country  who  knew 
the  road  well,  for  a  guide.  He  rode  towards  London  as  far 
as  Harrow,  and  then  altered  his  plans  and  resolved,  it  would 
seem,  to  go  to  the  Scottish  camp.  The  Scottish  men  had 
been  invited  over  to  help  the  Parliamentary  army,  and  had  a 
large  force  then  in  England.  The  King  was  so  desperately 
intriguing  in  everything  he  did,  that  it  is  doubtful  what  he  ex- 
actlj'  meant  by  this  step.  He  took  it,  anyhow,  and  delivered 
himself  up  to  the  EARL  OF  LEVEN,  the  Scottish  general-in- 
chief,  who  treated  him  as  an  honorable  prisoner.  Negoti- 
ations between  the  Parliament  on  the  one  hand  and  the 
Scottish  authorities  on  the  other,  as  to  what  should  be  done 
with  him,  lasted  until  the  following  February.  Then,  when 
the  King  had  refused  to  the  Parliament  the  concession  of 
that  old  militia  point  for  twenty  years,  and  had  refused  to 
Scotland  the  recognition  of  its  Solemn  League  and  Covenant, 


CHARLES   THE   FIRST.  399 

Scotland  got  a  handsome  sura  for  its  army  and  its  help, 
and  the  King  into  the  bargain.  He  was  taken,  by  certain 
Parliamentary  commissioners  appointed  to  receive  him,  to 
one  of  his  own  houses,  called  Holmby  House,  near  Al- 
thorpe,  in  Northamptonshire. 

While  the  Civil  War  was  still  in  progress,  John  Pym  died, 
and  was  buried  in  great  honor  in  Westminster  Abbey  —  not 
with  greater  honor  than  he  deserved,  for  the  liberties  of  Eng- 
lishmen owe  a  mighty  debt  to  Pym  and  Hampden.  The  war 
was  but  newly  over  when  the  Earl  of  Essex  died,  of  an  illness 
brought  on  by  his  having  overheated  himself  in  a  stag  hunt 
in  Windsor  Forest.  He,  too,  was  buried  in  Westminster 
Abbey,  with  great  state.  I  wish  it  were  not  necessaiy  to 
add  that  Archbishop  Laud  died  upon  the  scaffold  when  the 
war  was  not  yet  done.  His  trial  lasted  in  all  nearly  a  year, 
and,  it  being  doubtful  even  then  whether  the  charges  brought 
against  him  amounted  to  treason,  the  odious  old  contrivance 
of  the  worst  kings  was  resorted  to,  and  a  bill  of  attainder 
was  brought  in  against  him.  He  was  a  violently  prejudiced 
and  mischievous  person ;  had  had  strong  ear-cropping  and 
nose-splitting  propensities,  as  you  know ;  and  had  done  a 
world  of  harm.  But  he  died  peaceably,  and  like  a  brave 
old  man. 


FOURTH  PART. 

WHEN  the  Parliament  had  got  the  King  into  their  hands, 
they  became  very  anxious  to  get  rid  of  their  army,  in  which 
Oliver  Cromwell  had  begun  to  acquire  great  power ;  not  only 
because  of  his  courage  and  high  abilities,  but  because  he  pro- 
fessed to  be  very  sincere  in  the  Scottish  sort  of  Puritan 
religion  that  was  then  exceedingly  popular  among  the  soldiers. 
They  were  as  much  opposed  to  the  Bishops  as  to  the  Pope 
himself;  and  the  very  privates,  drummers,  and  trumpeters, 
had  such  an  inconvenient  habit  of  starting  up  and  preaching 


400  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

long-winded  discourses,  that  I  would  not  have  belonged  to 
that  army  on  an}'  account. 

80,  the  Parliament,  being  far  from  sure  but  that  the  army 
might  begin  to  preach  and  fight  against  them  now  it  had 
nothing  else  to  do,  proposed  to  disband  the  greater  part  of  it, 
to  send  another  part  to  serve  in  Ireland  against  the  rebels, 
and  to  keep  only  a  small  force  in  England.  But,  the  army 
would  not  consent  to  be  broken  up,  except  upon  its  own  con- 
ditions ;  and,  when  the  Parliament  showed  an  intention  of 
compelling  it,  it  acted  for  itself  in  an  unexpected  manner. 
A  certain  cornet,  of  the  name  of  JOICE,  arrived  at  Holmby 
House  one  night,  attended  by  four  hundred  horsemen,  went 
into  the  King's  room  with  his  hat  in  one  hand  and  a  pistol  in 
the  other,  and  told  the  King  that  he  had  come  to  take  him 
away.  The  King  was  willing  enough  to  go,  and  onl\-  stipu- 
lated that  he  should  be  publicly  required  to  do  so  next  morn- 
ing. Next  morning,  according!}',  he  appeared  on  the  top  of 
the  steps  of  the  house,  and  asked  Cornet  Joice  before  his  men 
and  the  guard  set  there  by  the  Parliament,  what  authority  he 
had  for  taking  him  away?  To  this  Cornet  Joice  replied, 
"The  authority  of  the  army."  "Have  you  a  written  com- 
mission?" said  the  King.  Joice,  pointing  to  his  four  hun- 
dred men  on  horseback,  replied,  "That  is  my  commission." 
"  Well,"  said  the  King,  smiling,  as  if  he  were  pleased,  "  I 
never  before  read  such  a  commission ;  but  it  is  written 
in  fair  and  legible  characters.  This  is  a  company  of  as 
handsome  proper  gentlemen  as  I  have  seen  a  long  while." 
He  was  asked  where  he  would  like  to  live,  and  he  said  at 
Newmarket.  So,  to  Newmarket  he  and  Cornet  Joice  and  the 
four  hundred  horsemen  rode  ;  the  King  remarking,  in  the 
same  smiling  way,  that  he  could  ride  as  far  at  a  spell  as  Cor- 
net Joice,  or  any  man  there. 

The  King  quite  believed,  I  think,  that  the  army  were  his 
friends.  He  said  as  much  to  Fairfax  when  that  General, 
Oliver  Cromwell,  and  Ireton,  went  to  persuade  him  to  return 
to  the  custod}'  of  the  Parliament.  He  preferred  to  remain  as 


CHARLES  THE  FIRST.  401 

he  was,  and  resolved  to  remain  as  he  was.  And  when  the 
army  moved  nearer  and  nearer  London  to  frighten  the  Parlia- 
ment into  yielding  to  their  demands,  they  took  the  King  with 
them.  It  was  a  deplorable  thing  that  England  should  be  at 
the  mercy  of  a  great  body  of  soldiers  with  arms  in  their 
hands  ;  but  the  King  certainly  favored  them  at  this  important 
time  of  his  life,  as  compared  with  the  more  lawful  power  that 
tried  to  control  him.  It  must  be  added,  however,  that  they 
treated  him,  as  yet,  more  respectfully  and  kindly  than  the 
Parliament  had  done.  They  allowed  him  to  be  attended  by 
his  own  servants,  to  be  splendidly  entertained  at  various 
houses,  and  to  see  his  children  —  at  Cavesham  House,  near 
Heading —  for  two  days.  Whereas,  the  Parliament  had  been 
rather  hard  with  him,  and  had  only  allowed  him  to  ride  out 
and  play  at  bowls. 

It  is  much  to  be  believed  that  if  the  King  could  have  been 
trusted,  even  at  this  time,  he  might  have  been  saved.  Even 
Oliver  Cromwell  expressly  said  that  he  did  believe  that  no 
man  could  enjoy  his  possessions  in  peace,  unless  the  King 
had  his  rights.  He  was  not  unfriendly  towards  the  King ; 
he  had  been  present  when  he  received  his  children,  and  had 
been  much  affected  by  the  pitiable  nature  of  the  scene ;  he 
saw  the  King  often ;  he  frequentby  walked  and  talked  with 
him  in  the  long  galleries  and  pleasant  gardens  of  the  Palace 
at  Hampton  Court,  whither  he  was  notv  removed  ;  and  in  all 
this  risked  something  of  his  influence  with  the  army.  But, 
the  King  was  in  secret  hopes  of  help  from  the  Scottish 
people  ;  and  the  moment  he  was  encouraged  to  join  them  he 
began  to  be  cool  to  his  new  friends,  the  army,  and  to  tell  the 
officers  that  they  could  not  possibly  do  without  him.  At  the 
very  time,  too,  when  he  was  promising  to  make  Cromwell 
and  Ireton  noblemen,  if  they  would  help  him  up  to  his  old 
height,  he  was  writing  to  the  Queen  that  he  meant  to  hang 
them.  They  both  afterwards  declared  that  they  had  been 
privately  informed  that  such  a  letter  would  be  found,  on  a 
certain  evening,  sewed  up  in  a  saddle  which  would  be  taken 

26 


402  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

to  the  Bine  Boar  in  Holborn  to  be  sent  to  Dover ;  and  that 
the}1  went  there,  disguised  as  common  soldiers,  and  sat  drink- 
ing in  the  inn-yard  until  a  man  came  with  the  saddle,  which 
the}'  ripped  up  with  their  knives,  and  therein  found  the  letter. 
I  see  little  reason  to  doubt  the  story.  It  is  certain  that  Oli- 
ver Cromwell  told  one  of  the  King's  most  faithful  followers 
that  the  King  could  not  be  trusted,  and  that  he  would  not  be 
answerable  if  anything  amiss  were  to  happen  to  him.  Still, 
even  after  that,  he  kept  a  promise  he  had  made  to  the  King, 
by  letting  him  know  that  there  was  a  plot  with  a  certain  por- 
tion of  the  army  to  seize  him.  I  believe  that,  in  fact,  he 
sincerely  wanted  the  King  to  escape  abroad,  and  so  to  be  got 
rid  of  without  more  trouble  or  danger.  That  Oliver  himself 
had  work  enough  with  the  army  is  pretty  plain  ;  for  some  of 
the  troops  were  so  mutinous  against  him,  and  against  those 
who  acted  with  him  at  this  time,  that  he  found  it  necessary 
to  have  one  man  shot  at  the  head  of  his  regiment  to  overawe 
the  rest. 

The  King,  when  he  received  Oliver's  warning,  made  his 
escape  from  Hampton  Court ;  after  some  indecision  and  un- 
certainty, he  went  to  Carisbrooke  Castle  in  the  Isle  of  Wight. 
At  first  he  was  pretty  free  there  ;  but,  even  there,  he  carried 
on  a  pretended  treaty  with  the  Parliament,  while  he  was 
really  treating  with  commissioners  from  Scotland  to  send  an 
army  into  England  to  take  his  part.  When  he  broke  off 
this  treaty  with  the  Parliament  (having  settled  with  Scot- 
land) and  was  treated  as  a  prisoner,  his  treatment  was  not 
changed  too  soon,  for  he  had  plotted  to  escape  that  very 
night  to  a  ship  sent  by  the  Queen,  which  was  lying  off  the 
island. 

He  was  doomed  to  be  disappointed  in  his  hopes  from  Scot- 
land. The  agreement  he  had  made  with  the  Scottish  Com- 
missioners was  not  favorable  enough  to  the  religion  of  that 
country  to  please  the  Scottish  clergy ;  and  they  preached 
against  it.  The  consequence  was,  that  the  army  raised  in 
Scotland  and  sent  over,  was  too  small  to  do  much  ;  and  that, 


CHARLES  THE  FIRST.  403 

although  it  was  helped  by  a  rising  of  the  Royalists  in  England 
and  by  good  soldiers  from  Ireland,  it  could  make  no  head 
against  the  Parliamentary  army  under  such  men  as  Cromwell 
and  Fairfax.  The  King's  eldest  son,  the  Prince  of  Wales, 
came  over  from  Holland  with  nineteen  ships  (a  part  of  the 
English  fleet  having  gone  over  to  him)  to  help  his  father ; 
but  nothing  came  of  his  vo3*age,  and  he  was  fain  to  return. 
The  most  remarkable  event  of  this  second  civil  war  was  the 
cruel  execution  by  the  Parliamentary  General,  of  SIR  CHARLES 
LUCAS  and  SIR  GEORGE  LISLE,  two  grand  Royalist  generals, 
who  had  bravety  defended  Colchester  under  every  disadvan- 
tage of  famine  and  distress  for  nearly  three  months.  When 
Sir  Charles  Lucas  was  shot,  Sir  George  Lisle  kissed  his  bod}', 
and  said  to  the  soldiers  who  were  to  shoot  him,  "  Come  nearer, 
and  make  sure  of  me."  "I  warrant  you,  Sir  George,"  said 
one  of  the  soldiers,  "  we  shall  hit  you."  "  A}'?  "  he  returned 
with  a  smile,  "•  but  I  have  been  nearer  to  you,  my  friends, 
many  a  time,  and  you  have  missed  me." 

The  Parliament,  after  being  fearfully  bullied  by  the  army  — 
who  demanded  to  have  seven  members  whom  they  disliked 
given  up  to  them  —  had  voted  that  they  would  have  nothing 
more  to  do  with  the  King.  On  the  conclusion,  however,  of 
this  second  civil  war  (which  did  not  last  more  than  six 
months),  they  appointed  commissioners  to  treat  with  him. 
The  King,  then  so  far  released  again  as  to  be  allowed  to  live 
in  a  private  house  at  Newport  in  the  Isle  of  Wight,  managed 
his  own  part  of  the  negotiation  with  a  sense  that  was  admired 
by  all  who  saw  him,  and  gave  up,  in  the  end,  all  that  was 
asked  of  him  —  even  j-ielding  (which  he  had  steadily  refused, 
so  far)  to  the  temporary  abolition  of  the  bishops,  and  the 
transfer  of  their  church  land  to  the  Crown.  Still,  with  his  old 
fatal  vice  upon  him,  when  his  best  friends  joined  the  commis- 
sioners in  beseeching  him  to  }-ield  all  those  points  as  the  only 
means  of  saving  himself  from  the  army,  he  was  plotting  to 
escape  from  the  island  ;  he  was  holding  correspondence  with 
his  friends  and  the  Catholics  in  Ireland,  though  declaring  that 


404  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

he  was  not ;  and  he  was  writing,  with  his  own  hand,  that  in 
what  he  3'ielded  he  meant  nothing  but  to  get  time  to  escape. 

Matters  were  at  this  pass  when  the  army,  resolved  to  defy 
die  Parliament,  marched  up  to  London.  The  Parliament, 
not  afraid  of  them  now,  and  boldly  led  by  Hollis,  voted  that 
the  King's  concessions  were  sufficient  ground  for  settling  the 
peace  of  the  kingdom.  Upon  that,  COLONEL  RICH  and  COL- 
ONEL PRIDE  went  down  to  the  House  of  Commons  with  a 
regiment  of  horse  soldiers  and  a  regiment  of  foot ;  and 
Colonel  Pride,  standing  in  the  lobby  with  a  list  of  the  mem- 
bers who  were  obnoxious  to  the  army  in  his  hand,  had  them 
pointed  out  to  him  as  they  came  through,  and  took  them  all  into 
custod}'.  This  proceeding  was  afterwards  called  by  the 
people,  for  a  joke,  PRIDE'S  PURGE.  Cromwell  was  in  the 
North,  at  the  head  of  his  men,  at  the  time,  but  when  he 
came  home,  approved  of  what  had  been  done. 

What  with  imprisoning  some  members  and  causing  others 
to  stay  away,  the  army  had  now  reduced  the  House  of  Com- 
mons to  some  fifty  or  so.  These  soon  voted  that  it  was 
treason  in  a  king  to  make  war  against  his  parliament  and  his 
people,  and  sent  an  ordinance  up  to  the  House  of  Lords  for 
the  King's  being  tried  as  a  traitor.  The  House  of  Lords, 
then  sixteen  in  number,  to  a  man  rejected  it.  Thereupon, 
the  Commons  made  an  ordinance  of  their  own,  that  they  were 
the  supreme  government  of  the  country,  and  would  bring  the 
King  to  trial. 

The  King  had  been  taken  for  security  to  a  place  called 
Hurst  Castle  :  a  lonely  house  on  a  rock  in  the  sea,  connected 
with  the  coast  of  Hampshire  by  a  rough  road  two  miles 
long  at  low  water.  Thence,  he  was  ordered  to  be  removed 
to  Windsor ;  thence,  after  being  but  rudely  used  there,  and 
having  none  but  soldiers  to  wait  upon  him  at  table,  he  was 
brought  up  to  St.  James's  Palace  in  London,  and  told  that 
his  trial  was  appointed  for  next  day. 

On  Saturday,  the  twentieth  of  January,  one  thousand  six 
hundred  and  forty-nine,  this  memorable  trial  began.  The 


CHARLES   THE   FIRST.  405 

House  of  Commons  had  settled  that  one  hundred  and  thirty- 
five  persons  should  form  the  Court,  and  these  were  taken 
from  the  House  itself,  from  among  the  officers  of  the  army, 
and  from  among  the  lawyers  and  citizens.  JOHN  BRADSHAW, 
serjeant-at-law,  was  appointed  president.  The  place  was 
Westminster  Hall.  At  the  upper  end,  in  a  red  velvet  chair, 
sat  the  president,  with  his  hat  (lined  with  plates  of  iron  for 
his  protection)  on  his  head.  The  rest  of  the  Court  sat  on 
side  benches,  also  wearing  their  hats.  The  King's  seat 
was  covered  with  velvet,  like  that  of  the  president,  and 
was  opposite  to  it.  He  was  brought  from  St.  James's 
to  Whitehall,  and  from  Whitehall  he  came  by  water  to  his 
trial. 

When  he  came  in,  he  looked  round  very  steadily  on  the 
Court,  and  on  the  great  number  of  spectators,  and  then  sat 
down :  presently  he  got  up  and  looked  round  again.  On  the 
indictment  "  against  Charles  Stuart,  for  high  treason,"  being 
read,  he  smiled  several  times,  and  he  denied  the  authority  of 
the  Court,  sa}'ing  that  there  could  be  no  parliament  without 
a  House  of  Lords,  and  that  he  saw  no  House  of  Lords  there. 
Also,  that  the  King  ought  to  be  there,  and  that  he  saw  no 
King  in  the  King's  right  place.  Bradshaw  replied,  that  the 
Court  was  satisfied  with  its  authority,  and  that  its  authority 
was  God's  authority  and  the  kingdom's.  He  then  adjourned 
the  Court  to  the  following  Monday.  On  that  day,  the  trial 
was  resumed,  and  went  on  all  the  week.  When  the  Saturday 
came,  as  the  King  passed  forward  to  his  place  in  the  Hall, 
some  soldiers  and  others  cried  for  "justice!"  and  execution 
on  him.  That  day,  too,  Bradshaw,  like  an  angry  Sultan, 
wore  a  red  robe,  instead  of  the  black  robe  he  had  worn  before. 
The  King  was  sentenced  to  death  that  day.  As  he  went  out, 
one  solitary  soldier  said,  "God  bless  you,  Sir!"  For  this, 
his  officer  struck  him.  The  King  said  he  thought  the  pun- 
ishment exceeded  the  offence.  The  silver  head  of  his  walk- 
ing-stick had  fallen  off  while  he  leaned  upon  it,  at  one  time  of 
the  trial.  The  accident  seemed  to  disturb  him,  as  if  he 


406  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

thought  it  ominous  of  the  falling  of  his  own  head ;  and  he 
admitted  as  much,  now  it  was  all  over. 

Being  taken  back  to  Whitehall,  he  sent  to  the  House  of  Com- 
mons, sa}'ing  that  as  the  time  of  his  execution  might  be  nigh, 
he  wished  he  might  be  allowed  to  see  his  darling  children. 
It  was  granted.  On  the  Monday  he  was  taken  back  to  St. 
James's  ;  and  his  two  children  then  in  England,  the  PRINCESS 
ELIZABETH  thirteen  years  old,  and  the  DUKE  OF  GLOUCESTER 
nine  years  old,  were  brought  to  take  leave  of  him,  from  Sion 
House,  near  Brentford.  It  was  a  sad  and  touching  scene, 
when  he  kissed  and  fondled  those  poor  children,  and  made  a 
little  present  of  two  diamond  seals  to  the  Princess,  and  gave 
them  tender  messages  to  their  mother  (who  little  deserved 
them,  for  she  had  a  lover  of  her  own  whom  she  married  soon 
afterwards) ,  and  told  them  that  he  died  ' u  for  the  laws  and 
liberties  of  the  land."  I  am  bound  to  say  that  I  don't  think 
he  did,  but  I  dare  say  he  believed  so. 

There  were  ambassadors  from  Holland  that  da}',  to  inter- 
cede for  the  unhappy  King,  whom  you  and  I  both  wish  the 
Parliament  had  spared  ;  but  they  got  no  answer.  The  Scot- 
tish Commissioners  interceded  too ;  so  did  the  Prince  of 
Wales,  by  a  letter  in  which  he  offered  as  the  next  heir  to  the 
throne,  to  accept  any  conditions  from  the  Parliament ;  so  did 
the  Queen,  by  letter  likewise.  Notwithstanding  all,  the  war- 
rant for  the  execution  was  this  day  signed.  There  is  a  story 
that  as  Oliver  Cromwell  went  to  the  table  with  the  pen  in  his 
hand  to  put  his  signature  to  it,  he  drew  his  pen  across  the 
face  of  one  of  the  commissioners,  who  was  standing  near, 
and  marked  it  with  ink.  That  commissioner  had  not  signed 
his  own  name  yet,  and  the  story  adds  that  when  he  came  to 
do  it  he  marked  Cromwell's  face  with  ink  in  the  same  way. 

The  King  slept  well,  untroubled  by  the  knowledge  that  it 
was  his  last  night  on  earth,  and  rose  on  the  thirtieth  of  Jan- 
uary, two  hours  before  day,  and  dressed  himself  carefully. 
He  put  on  two  shirts  lest  he  should  tremble  with  the  cold, 
and  had  his  hair  very  carefully  combed.  The  warrant  had 


CHARLES   THE   FIRST.  407 

been  directed  to  three  officers  of  the  army,  COLONEL  HACKER, 
COLONEL  HUNKS,  and  COLONEL  PHAYEK.  At  ten  o'clock,  the 
first  of  these  came  to  the  door  and  said  it  was  time  to  go  to 
Whitehall.  The  King,  who  had  always  been  a  quick  walker, 
walked  at  his  usual  speed  through  the  Park,  and  called  out 
to  the  guard,  with  his  accustomed  voice  of  command,  "  March 
on  apace ! "  When  he  came  to  Whitehall,  he  was  taken  to 
his  own  bedroom,  where  a  breakfast  was  set  forth.  As  he 
had  taken  the  Sacrament,  he  would  eat  nothing  more ;  but, 
at  about  the  time  when  the  church  bells  struck  twelve  at  noon 
(for  he  had  to  wait  through  the  scaffold  not  being  ready) ,  he 
took  the  advice  of  the  good  BISHOP  JUXON  who  was  with  him, 
and  ate  a  little  bread  and  drank  a  glass  of  claret.  Soon 
after  he  had  taken  this  refreshment,  Colonel  Hacker  came  to 
the  chamber  with  the  warrant  in  his  hand,  and  called  for 
Charles  Stuart. 

And  then,  through  the  long  gallery  of  Whitehall  Palace, 
which  he  had  often  seen  light  and  ga}T  and  merry  and  crowded, 
in  very  different  times,  the  fallen  King  passed  along,  until  he 
came  to  the  centre  window  of  the  Banqueting  House,  through 
which  he  emerged  upon  the  scaffold,  which  was  hung  with 
black.  He  looked  at  the  two  executioners,  who  were  dressed 
in  black  and  masked ;  he  looked  at  the  troops  of  soldiers  on 
horseback  and  on  foot,  and  all  looked  up  at  him  in  silence ; 
he  looked  at  the  vast  array  of  spectators,  filling  up  the  view 
be3"ond,  and  turning  all  their  faces  upon  him ;  he  looked  at 
his  old  Palace  of  St.  James's ;  and  he  looked  at  the  block. 
He  seemed  a  little  troubled  to  find  that  it  was  so  -low,  and 
asked,  "if  there  were  no  place  higher?"  Then,  to  those 
upon  the  scaffold,  he  said  "that  it  was  the  Parliament  who 
had  begun  the  war,  and  not  he ;  but  he  hoped  they  might  be 
guiltless  too,  as  ill  instruments  had  gone  between  them.  In 
one  respect,"  he  said,  "  he  suffered  justly ;  and  that  was  be- 
cause he  had  permitted  an  unjust  sentence  to  be  executed  on 
another."  In  this  he  referred  to  the  Earl  of  Strafford. 

He  was  not  at  all  afraid  to  die  ;  but.  he  was  anxious  to  die 


408  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

easily.  When  some  one  touched  the  axe  while  he  was  speak- 
ing, he  broke  off  and  called  out,  "Take  heed  of  the  axe! 
take  heed  of  the  axe !  "  He  also  said  to  Colonel  Hacker, 
"  Take  care  that  they  do  not  put  me  to  pain."  He  told  the 
executioner,  "I  shall  say  but  very  short  pra3*ers,  and  then 
thrust  out  my  hands  "  —  as  the  sign  to  strike. 

He  put  his  hair  up,  under  a  white  satin  cap  which  the 
bishop  had  carried,  and  said,  "  I  have  a  good  cause  and  a 
gracious  God  on  my  side."  The  bishop  told  him  that  he  had 
but  one  stage  more  to  travel  in  this  weary  world,  and  that, 
though  it  was  a  turbulent  and  troublesome  stage,  it  was  a 
short  one,  and  would  carry  him  a  great  way  —  all  the  way 
from  earth  to  Heaven.  The  King's  last  word,  as  he  gave  his 
cloak  and  the  George  —  the  decoration  from  his  breast  —  to 
the  bishop,  was,  "Remember!  "  He  then  kneeled  down, 
laid  his  head  on  the  block,  spread  out  his  hands,  and  was  in- 
stantly killed.  One  universal  groan  broke  from  the  crowd  ; 
and  the  soldiers,  who  had  sat  on  their  horses  and  stood  in 
their  ranks  immovable  as  statues,  were  of  a  sudden  all  in 
motion,  clearing  the  streets. 

Thus,  in  the  forty-ninth  year  of  his  age,  falling  at  the  same 
time  of  his  career  as  Strafford  had  fallen  in  his,  perished 
Charles  the  First.  With  all  my  sorrow  for  him,  I  cannot  agree 
with  him  that  he  died  "  the  martyr  of  the  people  ;"  for  the 
people  had  been  martyrs  to  him,  and  to  his  ideas  of  a  King's 
rights,  long  before.  Indeed,  I  am  afraid  that  he  was  but  a 
bad  judge  of  martyrs  ;  for  he  had  called  that  infamous  Duke 
of  Buckingham  "  the  Martyr  of  his  Sovereign." 


OLIVER  CKOMWELL.  409 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

ENGLAND    UNDER   OLIVER   CROMWELL. 

BEFORE  sunset  on  the  memorable  day  on  which  King 
Charles  the  First  was  executed,  the  House  of  Commons 
passed  an  act  declaring  it  treason  in  any  one  to  proclaim  the 
Prince  of  Wales  —  or  a^-body  else  —  King  of  England. 
Soon  afterwards,  it  declared  that  the  House  of  Lords  was 
useless  and  dangerous,  and  ought  to  be  abolished ;  and  di- 
rected that  the  late  King's  statue  should  be  taken  down  from 
the  Royal  Exchange  in  the  City  and  other  public  places. 
Having  laid  hold  of  some  famous  Royalists  who  had  escaped 
from  prison,  and  having  beheaded  the  DUKE  OF  HAMILTON, 
LORD  HOLLAND,  and  LORD  CAPEL,  in  Palace  Yard  (all  of 
whom  died  very  courageously) ,  they  then  appointed  a  Coun- 
cil of  State  to  govern  the  country.  It  consisted  of  forty-one 
members,  of  whom  five  were  peers.  Bradshaw  was  made 
president.  The  House  of  Commons  also  re-admitted  mem- 
bers who  had  opposed  the  King's  death,  and  made  up  its 
numbers  to  about  a  hundred  and  fifty. 

But,  it  still  had  an  army  of  more  than  forty  thousand  men 
to  deal  with,  and  a  very  hard  task  it  was  to  manage  them. 
Before  the  King's  execution,  the  army  had  appointed  some  of 
its  officers  to  remonstrate  between  them  and  the  Parliament ; 
and  now  the  common  soldiers  began  to  take  that  office  upon 
themselves.  The  regiments  under  orders  for  Ireland  muti- 
nied ;  one  troop  of  horse  in  the  city  of  London  seized  their 
own  flag,  and  refused  to  obey  orders.  For  this,  the  ring- 
leader was  shot :  which  did  not  mend  the  matter,  for,  both 
his  comrades  and  the  people  made  a  public  funeral  for  him, 


410  A   CHILD'S   HISTOKY  OF  ENGLAND. 

and  accompanied  the  bod}-  to  the  grave  with  sound  of  trum- 
pets and  with  a  gloom}-  procession  of  persons  earning  bun- 
dles of  rosemar}"  steeped  in  blood.  Oliver  was  the  only  man 
to  deal  with  such  difficulties  as  these,  and  he  soon  cut  them 
short  by  bursting  at  midnight  into  the  town  of  Burford,  near 
Salisbury,  where  the  mutineers  were  sheltered,  taking  four 
hundred  of  them  prisoners,  and  shooting  a  number  of  them 
by  sentence  of  court-martial.  The  soldiers  soon  found,  as 
all  men  did,  that  Oliver  was  not  a  man  to  be  trifled  with. 
And  there  was  an  end  of  the  mutiny. 

The  Scottish  Parliament  did  not  know  Oliver  yet ;  so,  on 
hearing  of  the  King's  execution,  it  proclaimed  the  Prince  of 
Wales  King  Charles  the  Second,  on  condition  of  his  respect- 
ing the  Solemn  League  and  Covenant.  Charles  was  abroad' 
at  that  time,  and  so  was  Montrose,  from  whose  help  he  had 
hopes  enough  to  keep  him  holding  on  and  off*  with  com- 
missioners from  Scotland,  just  as  his  father  might  have  done. 
These  hopes  were  soon  at  an  end ;  for,  Montrose,  having 
raised  a  few  hundred  exiles  in  Germany,  and  landed  with 
them  in  Scotland,  found  that  the  people  there,  instead  of 
joining  him,  deserted  the  country  at  his  approach.  He  was 
soon  taken  prisoner  and  carried  to  Edinburgh.  There  he 
was  received  with  every  possible  insult,  and  carried  to  prison 
in  a  cart,  his  officers  going  two  and  two  before  him.  He 
was  sentenced  by  the  Parliament  to  be  hanged  on  a  gallows 
thirt}"  feet  high,  to  have  his  head  set  on  a  spike  in  Edinburgh, 
and  his  limbs  distributed  in  other  places,  according  to  the  old 
barbarous  manner.  He  said  he  had  always  acted  under  the 
Royal  orders,  and  only  wished  he  had  limbs  enough  to  be 
distributed  through  Christendom,  that  it  might  be  the  more 
widely  known  how  loyal  he  had  been.  He  went  to  the  scaf- 
fold in  a  bright  and  brilliant  dress,  and  made  a  bold  end  at 
tliirt3r-eight  years  of  age.  The  breath  was  scarcely  out  of 
his  body  when  Charles  abandoned  his  memoiy,  and  denied 
that  he  had  ever  given  him  orders  to  rise  in  his  behalf.  O 
the  family  failing  was  strong  in  that  Charles  then  ! 


OLIVER   CROMWELL.  411 

Oliver  had  been  appointed  b}T  the  Parliament  to  command 
the  arm}'  in  Ireland,  where  he  took  a  terrible  vengeance  for 
the  sanguinary  rebellion,  and  made  tremendous  havoc,  par- 
ticularh'  in  the  siege  of  Drogheda,  where  no  quarter  was 
given,  and  where  he  found  at  least  a  thousand  of  the  inhabi- 
tants shut  up  together  in  the  great  church :  eveiy  one  of 
whom  was  killed  \)y  his  soldiers,  usually  known  as  OLIVER'S 
IRONSIDES.  There  were  numbers  of  friars  and  priests  among 
them,  and  Oliver  gruffly  wrote  home  in  his  despatch  that 
these  were  "  knocked  on  the  head"  like  the  rest. 

But,  Charles  having  got  over  to  Scotland  where  the  men 
of  the  Solemn  League  and  Covenant  led  him  a  prodigiously 
dull  life  and  made  him  very  weary  with  long  sermons  and 
grim  Sundays,  the  Parliament  called  the  redoubtable  Oliver 
home  to  knock  the  Scottish  men  on  the  head  for  setting  up 
that  Prince.  Oliver  left  his  son-in-law,  Ireton,  as  general  in 
Ireland  in  his  stead  (he  died  there  afterwards) ,  and  he  imi- 
tated the  example  of  his  father-in-law  with  such  good  will 
that  he  brought  the  country  to  subjection,  and  laid  it  at  the 
feet  of  the  Parliament.  In  the  end,  they  passed  an  act  for 
the  settlement  of  Ireland,  generally  pardoning  all  the  com- 
mon people,  but  exempting  from  this  grace  such  of  the 
wealthier  sort  as  had  been  concerned  in  the  rebellion,  or  in  any 
killing  of  Protestants,  or  who  refused  to  lay  down  their  arms. 
Great  numbers  of  Irish  were  got  out  of  the  country  to  serve 
under  Catholic  powers  abroad,  and  a  quantity  of  land  was 
declared  to  have  been  forfeited  by  past  offences,  and  was 
given  to  people  who  had  lent  money  to  the  Parliament  early 
in  the  war.  These  were  sweeping  measures ;  but,  if  Oliver 
Cromwell  had  had  his  own  way  fully,  and  had  stayed  in  Ire- 
land, he  would  have  done  more  yet. 

However,  as  I  have  said,  the  Parliament  wanted  Oliver  for 
Scotland ;  so,  home  Oliver  came,  and  was  made  commander 
of  all  the  Forces  of  the  Commonwealth  of  England,  and  in 
three  days  away  he  went  with  sixteen  thousand  soldiers  to 
fight  the  Scottish  men.  Now,  the  Scottish  men,  being  then 


412  A   CHILD'S  HISTOKY  OF   ENGLAND. 

—  as  you  will  generally  find  them  now  —  mighty  cautious, 
reflected  that  the  troops  they  had,  were  not  used  to  war  like 
the  Ironsides,  and  would  be  beaten  in  an  open  fight.  There- 
fore they  said,  "If  we  lie  quiet  in  our  trenches  in  Edinburgh 
here,  and  if  all  the  farmers  come  into  the  town  and  desert  the 
country,  the  Ironsides  will  be  driven  out  by  iron  hunger  and 
be  forced  to  go  away."  This  was,  no  doubt,  the  wisest  plan  ; 
but  as  the  Scottish  clergy  would  interfere  with  what  they 
knew  nothing  about,  and  would  perpetually  preach  long  ser- 
mons exhorting  the  soldiers  to  come  out  and  fight,  the  sol- 
diers got  it  in  their  heads  that  they  absolutely  must  come  out 
and  fight.  Accordingly,  in  an  evil  hour  for  themselves,  they 
came  out  of  their  safe  position.  Oliver  fell  upon  them  in- 
stantty,  and  killed  three  thousand,  and  took  ten  thousand 
prisoners. 

To  gratify  the  Scottish  Parliament,  and  preserve  their 
favor,  Charles  had  signed  a  declaration  they  laid  before  him, 
reproaching  the  memory  of  his  father  and  mother,  and  repre- 
senting himself  as  a  most  religious  Prince,  to  whom  the  Sol- 
emn League  and  Covenant  was  as  dear  as  life.  He  meant 
no  sort  of  truth  in  this,  and  soon  afterwards  galloped  away 
on  horseback  to  join  some  tiresome  Highland  friends,  who 
were  always  flourishing  dirks  and  broadswords.  He  was 
overtaken  and  induced  to  return ;  but  this  attempt,  which 
was  called  "The  Start,"  did  him  just  so  much  service,  that 
they  did  not  preach  quite  such  long  sermons  at  him  afterwards 
as  they  had  done  before. 

On  the  first  of  January,  one  thousand  six  hundred  and 
fifty-one,  the  Scottish  people  crowned  him  at  Scone.  He  im- 
mediately took  the  chief  command  of  an  army  of  .twenty 
thousand  men,  and  marched  to  Stirling.  His  hopes  were 
heightened,  I  dare  say,  by  the  redoubtable  Oliver  being  ill  of 
an  ague ;  but  Oliver  scrambled  out  of  bed  in  no  time,  and 
went  to  work  with  such  energy  that  he  got  behind  the  Ro3*al- 
ist  army  and  cut  it  off  from  all  communication  with  Scotland. 
There  was  nothing  for  it  then,  but  to  go  on  to  England  ;  so  it 


OLIVER  CROMWELL.  413 

went  on  as  far  as  Worcester,  where  the  mayor  and  some  of 
the  gentry  proclaimed  King  Charles  the  Second  straightway. 
His  proclamation,  however,  was  of  little  use  to  him,  for  very 
few  Royalists  appeared;  and,  on  the  very  same  day,  two 
people  were  publicly  beheaded  on  Tower  Hill  for  espousing 
his  cause.  Up  came  Oliver  to  Worcester  too,  at  double 
quick  speed,  and  he  and  his  Ironsides  so  laid  about  them  in 
the  great  battle  which  was  fought  there,  that  they  completely 
beat  the  Scottish  men,  and  destro}-ed  the  Royalist  army ; 
though  the  Scottish  men  fought  so  gallantly  that  it  took  five 
hours  to  do. 

The  escape  of  Charles  after  this  battle  of  Worcester  did 
him  good  service  long  afterwards,  for  it  induced  many  of  the 
generous  English  people  to  take  a  romantic  interest  iu  him, 
and  to  think  much  better  of  him  than  he  ever  deserved.  He 
fled  in  the  night,  with  not  more  than  sixty  followers,  to  the 
house  of  a  Catholic  lady  in  Staffordshire.  There,  for  his 
greater  safety,  the  whole  sixty  left  him.  He  cropped  his 
hair,  stained  his  face  and  hands  brown  as  if  they  were  sun- 
burnt, put  on  the  clothes  of  a  laboring  countryman,  and  went 
out  in  the  morning  with  his  axe  in  his  hand,  accompanied  by 
four  wood-cutters  who  were  brothers,  and  another  man  who 
was  their  brother-in-law.  These  good  fellows  made  a  bed 
for  him  under  a  tree,  as  the  weather  was  very  bad ;  and  the 
wife  of  one  of  them  brought  him  food  to  eat ;  and  the  old 
mother  of  the  four  brothers  came  and  fell  down  on  her  knees 
before  him  in  the  wood,  and  thanked  God  that  her  sons  were 
engaged  in  saving  his  life.  At  night,  he  came  out  of  the 
forest  and  went  on  to  another  house  which  was  near  the  river 
Severn,  with  the  intention  of  passing  into  Wales ;  but  the 
place  swarmed  with  soldiers,  and  the  bridges  were  guarded, 
and  all  the  boats  were  made  fast.  So,  after  lying  in  a  hay- 
loft covered  over  with  hay,  for  some  time,  he  came  out  of 
his  place,  attended  b}'  COLONEL  CARELESS,  a  Catholic  gentle- 
man who  had  met  him  there,  and  with  whom  he  la}'  hid,  all 
next  day,  up  in  the  shady  branches  of  a  fine  old  oak.  It 


414  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

was  lucky  for  the  King  that  it  was  September-time,  and  that 
the  leaves  had  not  begun  to  fall,  since  he  and  the  Colonel, 
perched  up  in  this  tree,  could  catch  glimpses  of  the  soldiers 
riding  about  below,  and  could  hear  the  crash  in  the  wood  as 
they  went  about  beating  the  boughs. 

After  this,  he  walked  and  walked  until  his  feet  were  all 
blistered ;  and,  having  been  concealed  all  one  day  in  a  house 
which  was  searched  by  the  troopers  while  he  was  there,  went 
with  LORD  WILMOT,  another  of  his  good  friends,  to  a  place 
called  Bentley,  where  one  Miss  LAKE,  a  Protestant  lady,  had 
obtained  a  pass  to  be  allowed  to  ride  through  the  guards  to 
see  a  relation  of  hers  near  Bristol.  Disguised  as  a  servant, 
he  rode  in  the  saddle  before  this  3'oung  lady  to  the  house  of 
SIR  JOHN  WINTER,  while  Lord  Wilmot  rode  there  boldly,  like 
a  plain  countr}-  gentleman,  with  dogs  at  his  heels.  It  hap- 
pened that  Sir  John  Winter's  butler  had  been  servant  in 
Richmond  Palace,  and  knew  Charles  the  moment  he  set  eyes 
upon  him ;  but,  the  butler  was  faithful  and  kept  the  secret. 
As  no  ship  could  be  found  to  cariy  him  abroad,  it  was 
planned  that  he  should  go  —  still  travelling  with  Miss  Lane 
as  her  servant — to  another  house,  at  Trent  near  Sherborne 
in  Dorsetshire ;  and  then  Miss  Lane  and  her  cousin,  MR. 
LASCELLES,  who  had  gone  on  horseback  beside  her  all  the 
way,  went  home.  I  hope  Miss  Lane  was  going  to  marry 
that  cousin,  for  I  am  sure  she  must  have  been  a  brave  kind 
girl.  If  I  had  been  that  cousin,  I  should  certainly  have  loved 
Miss  Lane. 

When  Charles,  lonely  for  the  loss  of  Miss  Lane,  was  safe 
at  Trent,  a  ship  was  hired  at  Lyme,  the  master  of  which 
engaged  to  take  two  gentlemen  to  France.  In  the  evening 
of  the  same  day,  the  King — now  riding  as  servant  before 
another  young  lady  —  set  oif  for  a  public-house  at  a  place 
called  Charmouth,  where  the  captain  of  the  vessel  was  to 
take  him  on  board.  But,  the  Captain's  wife,  being  afraid  of 
her  husband  getting  into  trouble,  locked  him  up  and  would 
not  let  him  sail.  Then  they  went  away  to  Bridport ;  and, 


OLIVER   CROMWELL.  415 

coming  to  the  inn  there,  found  the  stable-yard  full  of  soldiers 
who  were  on  the  look-out  for  Charles,  and  who  talked  about 
him  while  they  drank.  He  had  such  presence  of  mind,  that 
he  led  the  horses  of  his  party  through  the  yard  as  any  other 
servant  might  have  done,  and  said,  "  Come  out  of  the  way, 
you  soldiers  ;  let  us  have  room  to  pass  here  !  "  As  he  went 
along,  he  met  a  half-tipsy  ostler,  who  rubbed  his  eyes  and 
said  to  him,  "  Why,  I  was  formerly  servant  to  Mr.  Potter  at 
Exeter,  and  surely  I  have  sometimes  seen  you  there,  young 
man?"  He  certainly  had,  for  Charles  had  lodged  there. 
His  ready  answer  was,  "Ah,  I  did  live  with  him  once;  but 
I  have  no  time  to  talk  now.  We'll  have  a  pot  of  beer  to- 
gether when  I  come  back." 

From  this  dangerous  place  he  returned  to  Trent,  and  lay 
there  concealed  several  days.  Then  he  escaped  to  Heale, 
near  Salisbury ;  where,  in  the  house  of  a  widow  lady,  he 
was  hidden  five  days,  until  the  master  of  a  collier  lying  off 
Shoreham  in  Sussex,  undertook  to  convey  a  "gentleman" 
to  France.  On  the  night  of  the  fifteenth  of  October,  accom- 
panied by  two  colonels  and  a  merchant,  the  King  rode  to 
Brighton,  then  a  little  fishing  village,  to  give  the  captain  of 
the  ship  a  supper  before  going  on  board ;  but,  so  many  peo- 
ple knew  him,  that  this  captain  knew  him  too,  and  not  only 
he,  but  the  landlord  and  landlady  also.  Before  he  went 
away,  the  landlord  came  behind  his  chair,  kissed  his  hand,  and 
said  he  hoped  to  live  to  be  a  lord  and  to  see  his  wife  a  lad}' ; 
at  which  Charles  laughed.  They  had  had  a  good  supper 
by  this  time,  and  plenty  of  smoking  and  drinking,  at  which 
the  King  was  a  first-rate  hand,  so,  the  captain  assured  him 
that  he  would  stand  by  him,  and  he  did.  It  was  agreed  that 
the  captain  should  pretend  to  sail  to  Deal,  and  that  Charles 
should  address  the  sailors  and  sa}T  he  was  a  gentleman  in 
debt  who  was  running  away  from  his  creditors,  and  that  he 
hoped  they  would  join  him  in  persuading  the  captain  to  put 
him  ashore  in  France.  As  the  King  acted  his  part  very  well 
indeed,  and  gave  the  sailors  twenty  shillings  to  drink,  they 


416  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

begged  the  captain  to  do  what  such  a  worthy  gentleman 
asked.  He  pretended  to  yield  to  their  entreaties,  and  the 
King  got  safe  to  Normandj'. 

Ireland  being  now  subdued,  and  Scotland  kept  quiet  by 
plenty  of  forts  and  soldiers  put  there  by  Oliver,  the  Parlia- 
ment would  have  gone  on  quietly  enough,  as  far  as  fighting 
with  any  foreign  enemy  went,  but  for  getting  into  trouble 
with  the  Dutch,  who  in  the  spring  of  the  year  one  thousand 
six  hundred  and  fifty-one  sent  a  fleet  into  the  Downs  under 
their  ADMIRAL  VAN  TROMP,  to  call  upon  the  bold  English 
ADMIRAL  BLAKE  (who  was  there  with  half  as  many  ships  as 
the  Dutch)  to  strike  his  flag.  Blake  fired  a  raging  broadside 
instead,  and  beat  off  Van  Tromp  ;  who,  in  the  autumn,  came 
back  again  with  seventy  ships,  and  challenged  the  bold 
Blake  —  who  still  was  only  half  as  strong  —  to  fight  him. 
Blake  fought  him  all  day,  but,  finding  that  .the  Dutch  were 
too  many  for  him,  got  quietly  off  at  night.  What  does  Van 
Tromp  upon  this,  but  goes  cruising  and  boasting  about  the 
Channel,  between  the  North  Foreland  and  the  Isle  of  Wight, 
with  a  great  Dutch  broom  tied  to  his  masthead,  as  a  sign 
that  he  could  and  would  sweep  the  English  off  the  sea ! 
Within  three  months,  Blake  lowered  his  tone  though,  and 
his  broom  too ;  for,  he  and  two  other  bold  commanders, 
DEAN  and  MONK,  fought  him  three  whole  daj-s,  took  twenty- 
three  of  his  ships,  shivered  his  broom  to  pieces,  and  settled 
his  business. 

Things  were  no  sooner  quiet  again,  than  the  army  began  to 
complain  to  the  Parliament  that  they  were  not  governing  the 
nation  properly,  and  to  hint  that  they  thought  they  could  do 
it  better  themselves.  Oliver,  who  had  now  made  up  his 
mind  to  be  the  head  of  the  state,  or  nothing  at  all,  supported 
them  in  this,  and  called  a  meeting  of  officers  and  his  own 
Parliamentary  friends,  at  his  lodgings  in  Whitehall,  to  con- 
sider the  best  way  of  getting  rid  of  the  Parliament.  It  had 
now  lasted  just  as  many  years  as  the  King's  unbridled  power 
had  lasted,  before  it  came  into  existence.  The  end  of  the 


OLIVER  CROMWELL.  417 

deliberation  was,  that  Oliver  went  down  to  the  House  in  his 
usual  plain  black  dress,  with  his  usual  gray  worsted  stockings, 
but  with  an  unusual  party  of  soldiers  behind  him.  These 
last  he  left  in  the  lobby,  and  then  went  in  and  sat  clown. 
Presently  he  got  up,  made  the  Parliament  a  speech,  told 
them  that  the  Lord  had  done  with  them,  stamped  his  foot  and 
said,  "  You  are  no  Parliament.  Bring  them  in  !  Bring  them 
in ! "  At  this  signal  the  door  flew  open,  and  the  soldiers 
appeared.  "This  is  not  honest,"  said  Sir  Harry  Vane,  one 
of  the  members.  "  Sir  Harry  Vane  !  "  cried  Cromwell ;  "  O, 
Sir  Harry  Vane  !  The  Lord  deliver  me  from  Sir  Harry  Vane ! " 
Then  he  pointed  out  members  one  by  one,  and  said  this  man 
was  a  drunkard,  and  that  man  a  dissipated  fellow,  and  that 
man  a  liar,  and  so  on.  Then  he  caused  the  speaker  to  be 
walked  out  of  his  chair,  told  the  guard  to  clear  the  House, 
called  the  mace  upon  the  table  —  which  is  a  sign  that  the 
House  is  sitting —  "  a  fool's  bauble,"  and  said,  "  here,  carry 
it  away !  "  Being  obeyed  in  all  these  orders,  he  quietly  locked 
the  door,  put  the  key  in  his  pocket,  walked  back  to  Whitehall 
again,  and  told  his  friends,  who  were  still  assembled  there, 
what  he  had  done. 

They  formed  a  new  Council  of  State  after  this  extraordinary 
proceeding,  and  got  a  new  Parliament  together  in  their  own 
way :  which  Oliver  himself  opened  in  a  sort  of  sermon,  and 
which  he  said  was  the  beginning  of  a  perfect  heaven  upon 
earth.  In  this  Parliament  there  sat  a  well  known  leather- 
seller,  who  had  taken  the  singular  name  of  Praise  God  Bare- 
bones,  and  from  whom  it  was  called,  for  a  joke,  Barebones's 
Parliament,  though  its  general  name  was  the  Little  Parlia- 
ment. As  it  soon  appeared  that  it  was  not  going  to  put 
Oliver  in  the  first  place,  it  turned  out  to  be  not  at  all  like 
the  beginning  of  heaven  upon  earth,  and  Oliver  said  it 
really  was  not  to  be  borne  with.  So  he  cleared  off  that 
Parliament  in  much  the  same  way  as  he  had  disposed  of 
the  other;  and  then  the  council  of  officers  decided  that 
he  must  be  made  the  supreme  authority  of  the  kingdom, 

27 


418  A   CHILD'S   HISTOKY  OF  ENGLAND. 

under  the   title    of   the    Lord  Protector  of   the   Common- 
wealth. 

So,  on  the  sixteenth  of  December,  one  thousand  six  hun- 
dred and  fifty-three,-  a  great  procession  was  formed  at  Oliver's 
door,  and  he  came  out  in  a  black  velvet  suit  and  a  big  pair  of 
boots,  and  got  into  his  coach  and  went  down  to  Westminster, 
attended  by  the  judges,  and  the  lord  mayor,  and  the  alder- 
men, and  all  the  other  great  and  wonderful  personages  of 
the  countr}-.  There,  in  the  Court  of  Chancery,  he  publicly 
accepted  the  office  of  Lord  Protector.  Then  he  was  sworn, 
and  the  City  sword  was  handed  to  him,  and  the  seal  was 
handed  to  him,  and  all  the  other  things  were  handed  to  him 
which  are  usually  handed  to  Kings  and  Queens  on  state  occa- 
sions. When  Oliver  had  handed  them  all  back,  he  was  quite 
made  and  completely  finished  off  as  Lord  Protector ;  and 
several  of  the  Ironsides  preached  about  it  at  great  length,  all 
the  evening. 


SECOND  PAET. 

OLIVER  CROMWELL  —  whom  the  people  long  called  OLD 
NOLL  —  in  accepting  the  office  of  Protector,  had  bound  him- 
self by  a  certain  paper  which  was  handed  to  him,  called  "  the 
Instrument,"  to  summon  a  Parliament,  consisting  of  between 
four  and  five  hundred  members,  in  the  election  of  which 
neither  the  Ro3*alists  nor  the  Catholics  were  to  have  an}*  share. 
He  had  also  pledged  himself  that  this  Parliament  should  not 
be  dissolved  without  its  own  consent  until  it  had  sat  five 
months. 

When  this  Parliament  met,  Oliver  made  a  speech  to  them 
of  three  hours  long,  very  wisely  advising  them  what  to  do  for 
the  credit  and  happiness  of  the  country.  To  keep  down  the 
more  violent  members,  he  required  them  to  sign  a  recognition 
of  what  they  were  forbidden  by  "  the  Instrument"  to  do; 
which  was,  chiefly,  to  take  the  power  from  one  single  person 


OLIVER   CROMWELL.  419 

at  the  head  of  the  state  or  to  command  the  army.  Then  he 
dismissed  them  to  go  to  work.  With  his  usual  vigor  and 
resolution  he  went  to  work  himself  with  some  frantic  preach- 
ers—  who  were  rather  overdoing  their  sermons  in  calling  him 
a  villain  and  a  tyrant  — by  shutting  up  their  chapels,  and 
sending  a  few  of  them  off  to  prison. 

There  was  not  at  that  time,  in  England  or  anywhere  else, 
a  man  so  able  to  govern  the  country  as  Oliver  Cromwell. 
Although  he  ruled  with  a  strong  hand,  and  levied  a  very 
heavy  tax  on  the  Royalists  (but  not  until  they  had  plotted 
against  his  life),  he  ruled  wisely,  and  as  the  times  required. 
He  caused  England  to  be  so  respected  abroad,  that  I  wish 
some  lords  and  gentlemen  who  have  governed  it  under  kings 
and  queens  in  later  days  would  have  taken  a  leaf  out  of 
Oliver  Cromwell's  book.  He  sent  bold  Admiral  Blake  to  the 
Mediterranean  Sea,  to  make  the  Duke  of  Tuscany  pay  sixty 
thousand  pounds  for  injuries  he  had  done  to  British  subjects, 
and  spoliation  he  had  committed  on  English  merchants.  He 
further  despatched  him  and  his  fleet  to  Algiers,  Tunis,  and 
Tripoli,  to  have  everj-  English  ship  and  every  English  man 
delivered  up  to  him  that  had  been  taken  by  pirates  in  those 
parts.  All  this  was  gloriously  done ;  and  it  began  to  be 
thoroughly  well  known,  all  over  the  world,  that  England  was 
governed  by  a  man  in  earnest,  who  would  not  allow  the  Eng- 
lish name  to  be  insulted  or  slighted  anywhere. 

These  were  not  all  his  foreign  triumphs.  He  sent  a  fleet 
to  sea  against  the  Dutch ;  and  the  two  powers,  each  with 
one  hundred  ships  upon  its  side,  met  in  the  English  Channel 
off  the  North  Foreland,  where  the  fight  lasted  all  da}-  long. 
Dean  was  killed  in  this  fight ;  but  Monk,  who  commanded  in 
the  same  ship  with  him,  threw  his  cloak  over  his  body,  that 
the  sailors  might  not  know  of  his  death,  and  be  disheartened. 
Nor  were  they.  The  English  broadsides  so  exceedingly  as- 
tonished the  Dutch  that  they  sheered  off  at  last,  though  the 
redoubtable  Van  Tromp  fired  upon  them  with  his  own  guns 
for  deserting  their  flag.  Soon  afterwards,  the  two  fleets  en- 


420  A  CHILD'S  HISTOKY  OF  ENGLAND. 

gaged  again,  off  the  coast  of  Holland.  There,  the  valiant 
Van  Tromp  was  shot  through  the  heart,  and  the  Dutch  gave 
in,  and  peace  was  made. 

Further  than  this,  Oliver  resolved  not  to  bear  the  domineer- 
ing and  bigoted  conduct  of  Spain,  which  country  not  only 
claimed  a  right  to  all  the  gold  and  silver  that  could  be  found 
in  South  America,  and  treated  the  ships  of  all  other  countries 
who  visited  those  regions,  as  pirates,  but  put  English  subjects 
into  the  horrible  Spanish  prisons  of  the  Inquisition.  So, 
Oliver  told  the  Spanish  ambassador  that  English  ships  must 
be  free  to  go  wherever  they  would,  and  that  English  merchants 
must  not  be  thrown  into  those  same  dungeons,  no,  not  for 
the  pleasure  of  all  the  priests  in  Spain.  To  this,  the  Span- 
ish ambassador  replied  that  the  gold  and  silver  country,  and 
the  Holy  Inquisition,  were  his  King's  two  eyes,  neither  of 
which  he  could  submit  to  have  put  out.  Very  well,  said 
Oliver,  then  he  was  afraid  he  (Oliver)  must  damage  those 
two  eyes  directly. 

So,  another  fleet  was  despatched  under  two  commanders, 
PENN  and  VENABLES,  for  Hispaniola ;  where,  however,  the 
Spaniards  got  the  better  of  the  fight.  Consequently,  the  fleet 
came  home  again,  after  taking  Jamaica  on  the  way.  Oliver, 
indignant  with  the  two  commanders  who  had  not  done  what 
bold  Admiral  Blake  would  have  done,  clapped  them  both  into 
prison,  declared  war  against  Spain,  and  made  a  treaty  with 
France,  in  virtue  of  which  it  was  to  shelter  the  King  and  his 
brother  the  Duke  of  York  no  longer.  Then,  he  sent  a  fleet 
abroad  under  bold  Admiral  Blake,  which  brought  the  King 
of  Portugal  to  his  senses — just  to  keep  its  hand  in — and 
then  engaged  a  Spanish  fleet,  sunk  four  great  ships,  and  took 
two  more,  laden  with  silver  to  the  value  of  two  millions  of 
pounds  :  which  dazzling  prize  was  brought  from  Portsmouth 
to  London  in  wagons,  with  the  populace  of  all  the  towns 
and  villages  through  which  the  wagons  passed,  shouting  with 
all  their  might.  After  this  victoiy,  bold  Admiral  Blake 
sailed  away  to  the  port  of  Santa  Cruz  to  cut  off  the  Spanish 


OLIVER  CROMWELL.  421 

treasure-ships  coming  from  Mexico.  There,  he  found  them, 
ten  in  number,  with  seven  others  to  take  care  of  them,  and 
a  big  castle,  and  seven  batteries,  all  roaring  and  blazing  away 
at  him  with  great  guns.  Blake  cared  no  more  for  great  guns 
than  for  pop-guns  —  no  more  for  their  hot  iron  balls  than  for 
snow-balls.  He  dashed  into  the  harbor,  captured  and  burnt 
every  one  of  the  ships,  and  came  sailing  out  again  triumph- 
antly, with  the  victorious  English  flag  flying  at  his  mast-head. 
This  was  the  last  triumph  of  this  great  commander,  who  had 
sailed  and  fought  until  he  was  quite  worn  out.  He  died,  as 
his  successful  ship  was  coming  into  Plymouth  Harbor  amidst 
the  joyful  acclamations  of  the  people,  and  was  buried  in  state 
in  Westminster  Abbey.  Not  to  lie  there,  long. 

Over  arid  above  all  this,  Oliver  found  that  the  VAUDOIS,  or 
Protestant  people  of  the  valleys  of  Lucerne,  were  insolently 
treated  by  the  Catholic  powers,  and  were  even  put  to  death 
for  their  religion,  in  an  audacious  and  bloody  manner.  In- 
stantly, he  informed  those  powers  that  this  was  a  thing  which 
Protestant  England  would  not  allow  ;  and  he  speedily  carried 
his  point,  through  the  might  of  his  great  name,  and  established 
their  right  to  worship  God  in  peace  after  their  own  harmless 
manner. 

Lastly,  his  English  army  won  such  admiration  in  fighting 
with  the  French  against  the  Spaniards,  that  after  the}T  had 
assaulted  the  town  of  Dunkirk  together,  the  French  King  in 
person  gave  it  up  to  the  English,  that  it  might  be  a  token  to 
them  of  their  might  and  valor. 

There  were  plots  enough  against  Oliver  among  the  frantic 
religionists  (who  called  themselves  Fifth  Monarchy  Men) ,  and 
among  the  disappointed  Republicans.  He  had  a  difficult  game 
to  play,  for  the  Royalists  were  always  ready  to  side  with 
either  party  against  him.  The  "  King  over  the  water,"  too,  as 
Charles  was  called,  had  no  scruples  about  plotting  with  any 
one  against  his  life  ;  although  there  is  reason  to  suppose  that 
he  would  willingly  have  married  one  of  his  daughters,  if  Oli- 
ver would  have  had  such  a  son-in-law.  There  was  a  certain 


422  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

COLONEL  SAXBY  of  the  army,  once  a  great  supporter  of  O1U 
ver's  but  now  turned  against  him,  who  was  a  grievous  trouble 
to  him  through  all  this  part  of  his  career ;  and  who  came  and 
went  between  the  discontented  in  England  and  Spain,  and 
Charles  who  put  himself  in  alliance  with  Spain  on  being  thrown 
off  by  France.  This  man  died  in  prison  at  last ;  but  not  until 
there  had  been  very  serious  plots  between  the  Royalists  and 
Republicans,  and  an  actual  rising  of  them  in  England,  when 
the}r  burst  into  the  city  of  Salisbury  on  a  Sunday  night,  seized 
the  judges  who  were  going  to  hold  the  assizes  there  next  day, 
and  would  have  hanged  them  but  for  the  merciful  objections 
of  the  more  temperate  of  their  number.  Oliver  was  so  vigor- 
ous and  shrewd  that  he  soon  put  this  revolt  down,  as  he  did 
most  other  conspiracies  ;  and  it  was  well  for  one  of  its  chief 
managers  —  that  same  Lord  Wilmot  who  had  assisted  in 
Charles's  flight,  and  was  now  EARL  OF  ROCHESTER  —  that  he 
made  his  escape.  Oliver  seemed  to  have  eyes  and  ears  every- 
where, and  secured  such  sources  of  information  as  his  ene- 
mies little  dreamed  of.  There  was  a  chosen  body  of  six  per- 
sons, called  the  Sealed  Knot,  who  were  in  the  closest  and 
most  secret  confidence  of  Charles.  One  of  the  foremost  of 
these  very  men,  a  SIR  RICHARD  WILLIS,  reported  to  Oliver 
everything  that  passed  among  them,  and  had  two  hundred  a 
year  for  it. 

MILES  SYNDARCOMB,  also  of  the  old  army,  was  another  con- 
spirator against  the  Protector.  He  and  a  man  named  CECIL, 
bribed  one  of  his  Life  Guards  to  let  them  have  good  notice 
when  he  was  going  out  —  intending  to  shoot  him  from  a  win- 
dow. But,  owing  either  to  his  caution  or  his  good  fortune, 
the}"  could  never  get  an  aim  at  him.  Disappointed  in  this 
design,  they  got  into  the  chapel  in  Whitehall,  with  a  basket- 
ful of  combustibles,  which  were  to  explode  by  means  of  a  slow 
match  in  six  hours ;  then  in  the  noise  and  confusion  of  the 
fire,  they  hoped  to  kill  Oliver.  But,  the  Life  Guardsman  him- 
self disclosed  this  plot ;  and  they  were  seized,  and  Miles 
died  (or  killed  himself  in  prison)  a  little  while  before  he  was 


OLIVER  CROMWELL.  423 

ordered  for  execution.  A  few  such  plotters  Oliver  caused  to 
be  beheaded,  a  few  more  to  be  hanged,  and  many  more, 
including  those  who  rose  in  arms  against  him,  to  be  sent  as 
slaves  to  the  West  Indies.  If  he  were  rigid,  he  was  impartial 
too,  in  asserting  the  laws  of  England.  When  a  Portuguese 
nobleman,  the  brother  of  the  Portuguese  ambassador,  killed  a 
London  citizen  in  mistake  for  another  man  with  whom  he  had 
had  a  quarrel,  Oliver  caused  him  to  be  tried  before  a  jury  of 
Englishmen  and  foreigners,  and  had  him  executed  in  spite  of 
the  entreaties  of  all  the  ambassadors  in  London. 

One  of  Oliver's  own  friends,  the  DUKE  OF  OLDENBURGH,  in 
sending  him  a  present  of  six  fine  coach-horses,  was  very  near 
doing  more  to  please  the  Royalists  than  all  the  plotters  put 
together.  One  day,  Oliver  went  with  his  coach  drawn  by  these 
six  horses,  into  Hyde  Park,  to  dine  with  his  secretary  and 
some  of  his  other  gentlemen  under  the  trees  there.  After 
dinner,  being  merry,  he  took  it  into  his  head  to  put  his  friends 
inside  and  to  drive  them  home :  a  postillion  riding  one  of  the 
foremost  horses,  as  the  custom  was.  On  account  of  Oliver's 
being  too  free  with  the  whip,  the  six  fine  horses  went  off  at  a 
gallop,  the  postillion  got  thrown,  and  Oliver  fell  upon  the 
coach-pole  and  narrowly  escaped  being  shot  by  his  own  pis- 
tol, which  got  entangled  with  his  clothes  in  the  harness,  and 
went  off.  He  was  dragged  some  distance  by  the  foot, 
until  his  foot  came  out  of  the  shoe,  and  then  he  came  safely 
to  the  ground  under  the  broad  body  of  the  coach,  and  was 
very  little  the  worse.  The  gentlemen  inside  were  only  bruised, 
and  the  discontented  people  of  all  parties  were  much  disap- 
pointed. 

The  rest  of  the  history  of  the  Protectorate  of  Oliver  Crom- 
well is  a  history  of  his  Parliaments.  His  first  one  not  pleas- 
ing him  at  all,  he  waited  until  the  five  months  were  out,  and 
then  dissolved  it.  The  next  was  better  suited  to  his  views  ; 
and  from  that  he  desired  to  get  —  if  he  could  with  safety  to 
himself — the  title  of  King.  He  had  had  this  in  his  mind 
some  time :  whether  because  he  thought  that  the  English 


424  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

people,  being  more  used  to  the  title,  were  more  likely  to  obey 
it ;  or  whether  because  he  really  wished  to  be  a  King  himself, 
and  to  leave  the  succession  to  that  title  in  his  famil}-,  is  far 
from  clear.  He  was  already  as  high,  in  England  and  in  all 
the  world,  as  he  would  ever  be,  and  I  doubt  if  he  cared  for 
the  mere  name.  However,  a  paper,  called  the ''Humble 
Petition  and  Advice,"  was  presented  to  him  by  the  House  of 
Commons,  praying  him  to  take  a  high  title  and  to  appoint  his 
successor.  That  he  would  have  taken  the  title  of  King  there 
is  no  doubt,  but  for  the  strong  opposition  of  the  army.  This 
induced  him  to  forbear,  and  to  assent  only  to  the  other  points 
of  the  petition.  Upon  which  occasion  there  was  another 
grand  show  in  Westminster  Hall,  when  the  Speaker  of  the 
House  of  Commons  formally  invested  him  with  a  purple  robe 
lined  with  ermine,  and  presented  him  with  a  splendidly  bound 
Bible,  and  put  a  golden  sceptre  in  his  hand.  The  next  time 
the  Parliament  met,  he  called  a  House  of  Lords  of  sixty  mem- 
bers, as  the  petition  gave  him  power  to  do ;  but  as  that 
Parliament  did  not  please  him  either,  and  would  not  proceed 
to  the  business  of  the  countrj-,  he  jumped  into  a  coach  one 
morning,  took  six  Guards  with  him,  and  sent  them  to  the 
right-about.  I  wish  this  had  been  a  warning  to  Parliaments 
to  avoid  long  speeches,  and  do  more  work. 

It  was  the  month  of  August,  one  thousand  six  hundred  and 
fifty-eight,  when  Oliver  Cromwell's  favorite  daughter,  ELIZA- 
BETH CLAYPOLE  (who  had  lately  lost  her  youngest  son),  la}' 
very  ill,  and  his  mind  was  greatly  troubled,  because  he  loved 
her  dearly.  Another  of  his  daughters  was  married  to  LORD 
FALCONBERG,  another  to  the  grandson  of  the  Earl  of  Warwick, 
and  he  had  made  his  son  RICHARD  one  of  the  members  of  the 
Upper  House.  He  was  very  kind  and  loving  to  them  all, 
being  a  good  father  and  a  good  husband  ;  but  he  loved  this 
daughter  the  best  of  the  family,  and  went  down  to  Hampton 
Court  to  see  her,  and  could  hard!}-  be  induced  to  stir  from  her 
sick  room  until  she  died.  Although  his  religion  had  been  of 
a  gloomy  kind,  his  disposition  had  been  always  cheerful.  He 


OLIVER   CROMWELL.  425 

had  been  fond  of  music  in  his  home,  and  had  kept  open  table 
once  a  week  for  all  officers  of  the  army  not  below  the  rank  of 
captain,  and  had  always  preserved  in  his  house  a  quiet  sensi- 
ble dignity.  He  encouraged  men  of  genius  and  learning,  and 
loved  to  have  them  about  him.  MILTON  was  one  of  his  great 
friends.  He  was  good  humored  too,  with  the  nobility,  whose 
dresses  and  manners  were  very  different  from  his  ;  and  to 
show  them  what  good  information  he  had,  he  would  some- 
times jokingly  tell  them  when  they  were  his  guests,  where 
they  had  last  drunk  the  health  of  the  "  King  over  the  water," 
and  would  recommend  them  to  be  more  private  (if  they  could) 
another  time.  But  he  had  lived  in  bus}"  times,  and  borne 
the  weight  of  heavy  State  affairs,  and  had  often  gone  in  fear 
of  his  life.  He  was  ill  of  the  gout  and  ague ;  and  when  the 
death  of  his  beloved  child  came  upon  him  in  addition,  he 
sank,  never  to  raise  his  head  again.  He  told  his  physicians 
on  the  twenty-fourth  of  August  that  the  Lord  had  assured 
him  that  he  was  not  to  die  in  that  illness,  and  that  he  would 
certainly  get  better.  This  was  only  his  sick  fancy,  for  on 
the  third  of  September,  which  was  the  anniversary  of  the 
great  battle  of  Worcester,  and  the  day  of  the  year  which  he 
called  his  fortunate  day,  he  died,  in  the  sixtieth  year  of  his 
age.  He  had  been  delirious,  and  had  lain  insensible  some 
hours,  but  he  had  been  overheard  to  murmur  a  very  good 
prayer  the  day  before.  The  whole  country  lamented  his 
death.  If  you  want  to  know  the  real  worth  of  Oliver  Crom- 
well, and  his  real  services  to  his  country,  you  can  hardly  do 
better  than  compare  England  under  him,  with  England  under 
CHARLES  THE  SECOND. 

He  had  appointed  his  son  Richard  to  succeed  him,  and 
after  there  had  been,  at  Somerset  House  in  the  Strand,  a 
lying  in  state  more  splendid  than  sensible  —  as  all  such  vani- 
ties after  death  are,  I  think  —  Richard  became  Lord  Protec- 
tor. He  was  an  amiable  country  gentleman,  but  had  none  of 
his  father's  great  genius,  and  was  quite  unfit  for  such  a  post 
in  such  a  storm  of  parties.  Richard's  Protectorate,  which 


426  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

only  lasted  a  year  and  a  half,  is  a  history  of  quarrels  between 
the  officers  of  the  army  and  the  Parliament,  and  between  the 
officers  among  themselves ;  and  of  a  growing  discontent 
among  the  people,  who  had  far  too  many  long  sermons  and 
far  too  few  amusements,  and  wanted  a  change.  At  last, 
General  Monk  got  the  army  well  into  his  own  hands,  and 
then  in  pursuance  of  a  secret  plan  he  seems  to  have  enter- 
tained from  the  time  of  Oliver's  death,  declared  for  the  King's 
cause.  He  did  not  do  this  openly ;  but,  in  his  place  in  the 
House  of  Commons,  as  one  of  the  members  for  Devonshire, 
strongly  advocated  the  proposals  of  one  SIR  JOHN  GREENVILLE, 
who  came  to  the  House  with  a  letter  from  Charles,  dated  from 
Breda,  and  with  whom  he  had  previously  been  in  secret  com- 
munication. There  had  been  plots  and  counterplots,  and  a 
recall  of  the  last  members  of  the  Long  Parliament,  and  an 
end  of  the  Long  Parliament,  and  risings  of  the  Royalists  that 
were  made  too  soon ;  and  most  men  being  tired  out,  and 
there  being  no  one  to  head  the  country  now  great  Oliver  was 
dead,  it  was  readily  agreed  to  welcome  Charles  Stuart.  Some 
of  the  wiser  and  better  members  said  —  what  was  most  true 
—  that  in  the  letter  from  Breda,  he  gave  no  real  promise  to 
govern  well,  and  that  it  would  be  best  to  make  him  pledge 
himself  beforehand  as  to  what  he  should  be  bound  to  do  for 
the  benefit  of  the  kingdom.  Monk  said,  however,  it  would 
be  all  right  when  he  came,  and  he  could  not  come  too  soon. 

So,  everybody  found  out  all  in  a  moment  that  the  country 
must  be  prosperous  and  happy,  having  another  Stuart  to  con- 
descend to  reign  over  it ;  and  there  was  a  prodigious  firing 
off  of  guns,  lighting  of  bonfires,  ringing  of  bells,  and  throw- 
ing up  of  caps.  The  people  drank  the  King's  health  by  thou- 
sands in  the  open  streets,  and  everybody  rejoiced.  Down 
came  the  Arms  of  the  Commonwealth,  up  went  the  Royal 
Arms  instead,  and  out  came  the  public  money.  Fifty  thou- 
sand pounds  for  the  King,  ten  thousand  pounds  for  his  brother 
the  Duke  of  York,  five  thousand  pounds  for  his  brother  the 
Duke  of  Gloucester.  Prayers  for  these  gracious  Stuarts  were 


OLIVER   CROMWELL.  427 

put  up  in  all  the  churches  ;  commissioners  were  sent  to  Hol- 
land (which  suddenly  found  out  that  Charles  was  a  great  man, 
and  that  it  loved  him)  to  invite  the  King  home ;  Monk  and 
the  Kentish  grandees  .went  to  Dover,  to  kneel  clown  before 
him  as  he  landed.  He  kissed  and  embraced  Monk,  made 
him  ride  in  the  coach  with  himself  and  his  brothers,  came  on 
to  London  amid  wonderful  shoutings,  and  passed  through  the 
army  at  Blackheath  on  the  twenty-ninth  of  May  (his  birth- 
day), in  the  year  one  thousand  six  hundred  and  sixty. 
Greeted  by  splendid  dinners  under  tents,  b}-  flags  and  tap- 
estry streaming  from  all  the  houses,  by  delighted  crowds  in 
ah1  the  streets,  by  troops  of  noblemen  and  gentlemen  in  rich 
dresses,  by  City  companies,  train-bands,  drummers,  trum- 
peters, the  great  Lord  Mayor,  and  the  majestic  Aldermen, 
the  King  went  on  to  Whitehall.  On  entering  it,  he  com- 
memorated his  Restoration  with  the  joke  that  it  really  would 
seem  to  have  been  his  own  fault  that  he  had  not  come  long 
ago,  since  everybody  told  him  that  he  had  always  wished  for 
him  with  all  his  heart. 


428  A  CHILD'S  HISTOKY  OF  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER    XXXV. 

ENGLAND    UNDER    CHARLES    THE    SECOND,    CALLED    THE    MERRY 
MONARCH. 

THERE  never  were  such  profligate  times  in  England  as 
under  Charles  the  Second.  Whenever  you  see  his  portrait, 
with  his  swarthy  ill-looking  face  and  great  nose,  you  may 
fancy  him  in  his  Court  at  Whitehall,  surrounded  b}*  some  of 
the  very  worst  vagabonds  in  the  kingdom  (though  they  were 
lords  and  ladies),  drinking,  gambling,  indulging  in  vicious 
conversation,  and  committing  every  kind  of  profligate  excess. 
It  has  been  a  fashion  to  call  Charles  the  Second  "  The  Merry 
Monarch."  Let  me  try  to  give  you  a  general  idea  of  some 
of  the  meny  things  that  were  done,  in  the  merry  days  when 
this  merry  gentleman  sat  upon  his  merry  throne,  in  merry 
England. 

The  first  merry  proceeding  was  —  of  course  —  to  declare 
that  he  was  one  of  the  greatest,  the  wisest,  and  the  noblest 
kings  that  ever  shone,  like  the  blessed  sun  itself,  on  this  be- 
nighted earth.  The  next  merry  and  pleasant  piece  of  busi- 
ness was,  for  the  Parliament,  in  the  humblest  manner,  to 
give  him  one  million  two  hundred  thousand  pounds  a  year, 
and  to  settle  upon  him  for  life  that  old  disputed  tonnage  and 
poundage  which  had  been  so  bravely  fought  for.  Then,  Gen- 
eral Monk,  being  made  EARL  OF  ALBEMARLE,  and  a  few  other 
Royalists  similarly  rewarded,  the  law  went  to  work  to  see 
what  was  to  be  done  to  those  persons  (they  were  called  Regi- 
cides) who  had  been  concerned  in  making  a  martyr  of  the 
late  King.  Ten  of  these  were  merrily  executed ;  that  is  to 
say,  six  of  the  judges,  one  of  the  council,  Colonel  Hacker 


CHARLES  THE  SECOND.  429 

and  another  officer  who  had  commanded  the  Guards,  and 
HCGH  PETERS,  a  preacher  who  had  preached  against  the  mar- 
tyr with  all  his  heart.  These  executions  were  so  extremely 
merry,  that  every  horrible  circumstance  which  Cromwell  had 
abandoned  was  revived  with  appalling  cruelty.  The  hearts 
of  the  sufferers  were  torn  out  of  their  living  bodies ;  their 
bowels  were  burned  before  their  faces ;  the  executioner  cut 
jokes  to  the  next  victim,  as  he  rubbed  his  filthy  hands  to- 
gether, that  were  reeking  with  the  blood  of  the  last ;  and  the 
heads  of  the  dead  were  drawn  on  sledges  with  the  living  to 
the  place  of  suffering.  Still,  even  so  merry  a  monarch  could 
not  force  one  of  these  dying  men  to  say  that  he  was  sorry 
for  what  he  had  done.  Nay,  the  most  memorable  thing  said 
among  them  was,  that  if  the  thing  were  to  do  again  they 
would  do  it. 

Sir  Harry  Vane,  who  had  furnished  the  evidence  against 
Strafford,  and  was  one  of  the  most  staunch  of  the  Repub- 
licans, was  also  tried,  found  guilty,  and  ordered  for  execu- 
tion. When  he  came  upon  the  scaffold  on  Tower  Hill,  after 
conducting  his  own  defence  with  great  power,  his  notes  of 
what  he  had  meant  to  say  to  the  people  were  torn  away  from 
him,  and  the  drums  and  trumpets  were  ordered  to  sound 
lustily  and  drown  his  voice ;  for,  the  people  had  been  so 
much  impressed  by  what  the  Regicides  had  calmly  said  with 
their  last  breath,  that  it  was  the  custom  now,  to  have  the 
drums  and  trumpets  always  under  the  scaffold,  ready  to 
strike  up.  Vane  said  no  more  than  this:  "It  is  a  bad 
cause  which  cannot  bear  the  words  of  a  dying  man : "  and 
bravery  died. 

These  meny  scenes  were  succeeded  by  another,  perhaps 
even  merrier.  On  the  anniversary  of  the  late  King's  death, 
the  bodies  of  Oliver  Cromwell,  Ireton,  and  Bradshaw,  were 
torn  out  of  their  graves  in  Westminster  Abbey,  dragged  to 
Tyburn,  hanged  there  on  a  gallows  all  day  long,  and  then 
beheaded.  Imagine  the  head  of  Oliver  Cromwell  set  upon  a 
pole  to  be  stared  at  by  a  brutal  crowd,  not  one  of  whom 


430  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

would  have  dared  to  look  the  living  Oliver  in  the  face  for  half 
a  moment!  Think,  after  you  have  read  this  reign,  what 
England  was  under  Oliver  Cromwell  who  was  torn  out  of  his 
grave,  and  what  it  was  under  this  merry  monarch  who  sold  it, 
like  a  merry  Judas,  over  and  over  again. 

Of  course,  the  remains  of  Oliver's  wife  and  daughter  were 
not  to  be  spared  either,  though  they  had  been  most  excellent 
women.  The  base  clergy  of  that  time  gave  up  their  bodies, 
which  had  been  buried  in  the  Abbey,  and  —  to  the  eternal 
disgrace  of  England  —  they  were  thrown  into  a  pit,  together 
with  the  mouldering  bones  of  Pym  and  of  the  brave  and  bold 
old  Admiral  Blake. 

The  clergy  acted  this  disgraceful  part  because  they  hoped 
to  get  the  nonconformists,  or  dissenters,  thoroughly  put  down 
in  this  reign,  and  to  have  but  one  prayer-book  and  one  ser- 
vice for  all  kinds  of  people,  no  matter  what  their  private 
opinions  were.  This  was  pretty  well,  I  think,  for  a  Protest- 
ant Church,  which  had  displaced  the  Romish  Church  because 
people  had  a  right  to  their  own  opinions  in  religious  matters. 
However,  they  carried  it  with  a  high  hand,  and  a  prayer-book 
was  agreed  upon,  in  which  the  extremest  opinions  of  Arch- 
bishop Laud  were  not  forgotten.  An  act  was  passed,  too, 
preventing  any  dissenter  from  holding  any  office  under  any 
corporation.  So,  the  regular  clergy  in  their  triumph  were 
soon  as  merry  as  the  King.  The  army  being  by  this  time 
disbanded,  and  the  King  crowned,  everything  was  to  go  on 
easity  for  evermore. 

I  must  say  a  word  here  about  the  King's  family.  He  had 
not  been  long  upon  the  throne  when  his  brother  the  Duke  of 
Gloucester,  and  his  sister  the  PRINCESS  OF  ORANGE,  died 
within  a  few  months  of  each  other,  of  small-pox.  His  re- 
maining sister,  the  PRINCESS  HENRIETTA,  married  the  DUKE 
OF  ORLEANS,  the  brother  of  Louis  THE  FOURTEENTH,  King  of 
France.  His  brother  JAMES,  DUKE  OF  YORK,  was  made 
High  Admiral,  and  by-and-by  became  a  Catholic.  He  was  a 
gloomy  sullen  bilious  sort  of  man,  with  a  remarkable  par- 


CHARLES   THE   SECOND.  431 

tiality  for  the  ugliest  women  in  the  country.  lie  married, 
under  very  discreditable  circumstances,  ANNE  HYDE,  the 
daughter  of  LORD  CLARENDON,  then  the  King's  principal 
Minister  —  not  at  all  a  delicate  minister  either,  but  doing 
much  of  the  dirty  work  of  a  very  dirty  palace.  It  became 
important  now  that  the  King  himself  should  be  married ;  and 
divers  foreign  Monarchs,  not  very  particular  about  the  char- 
acter of  their  son-in-law,  proposed  their  daughters  to  him. 
The  KING  OF  PORTUGAL  offered  his  daughter  CATHERINE  OP 
BRAGANZA,  and  fifty  thousand  pounds :  in  addition  to  which, 
the  French  King,  who  was  favorable  to  that  match,  offered  a 
loan  of  another  fifty  thousand.  The  King  of  Spain,  on  the 
other  hand,  offered  any  one  out  of  a  dozen  Princesses,  and 
other  hopes  of  gain.  But  the  ready  money  carried  the  day, 
and  Catherine  came  over  in  state  to  her  merry  marriage. 

The  whole  Court  was  a  great  flaunting  crowd  of  debauched 
men  and  shameless  women  ;  and  Catherine's  merry  husband 
insulted  and  outraged  her  in  every  possible  way,  until  she 
consented  to  receive  those  worthless  creatures  as  her  very 
good  friends,  and  to  degrade  herself  by  their  companionship. 
A  MRS.  PALMER,  whom  the  King  made  LADY  CASTLEMAINE, 
and  afterwards  DUCHESS  OF  CLEVELAND,  was  one  of  the  most 
powerful  of  the  bad  women  about  the  Court,  and  had  great 
influence  with  the  King  nearly  all  through  his  reign.  Another 
merry  lady  named  MOLL  DAVIES,  a  dancer  at  the  theatre, 
was  afterwards  her  rival.  So  was  NELL  GWTN,  first  an 
orange  girl  and  then  an  actress,  who  really  had  good  in  her, 
and  of  whom  one  of  the  worst  things  I  know  is,  that  actually 
she  does  seem  to  have  been  fond  of  the  King.  The  first 
DUKE  OF  ST.  ALBANS  was  this  orange  girl's  child.  In  like 
manner  the  son  of  a  merry  waiting-lady,  whom  the  King 
created  DUCHESS  OF  PORTSMOUTH,  became  the  DUKE  OF 
RICHMOND.  Upon  the  whole  it  is  not  so  bad  a  thing  to 
be  a  commoner. 

The  Merry  Monarch  was  so  exceedingly  merry  among 
these  merry  ladies,  and  some  equally  merry  (and  equally 


432  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

infamous)  lords  and  gentlemen,  that  he  soon  got  through 
his  hundred  thousand  pounds,  and  then,  by  way  of  raising 
a  little  pocket-money,  made  a  merry  bargain.  He  sold 
Dunkirk  to  the  French  King  for  five  millions  of  livres. 
When  I  think  of  the  dignity  to  which  Oliver  Cromwell 
raised  England  in  the  eyes  of  foreign  powers,  and  when  I 
think  of  the  manner  in  which  he  gained  for  England  this 
very  Dunkirk,  I  am  much  inclined  to  consider  that  if  the 
Merry  Monarch  had  been  made  to  follow  his  father  for  this 
action,  he  would  have  received  his  just  deserts. 

Though  he  was  like  his  father  in  none  of  that  father's 
greater  qualities,  he  was  like  him  in  being  worthy  of  no 
trust.  When  he  sent  that  letter  to  the  Parliament,  from 
Breda,  he  did  expressly  promise  that  all  sincere  religious 
opinions  should  be  respected.  Yet  he  was  no  sooner  firm 
in  his  power  than  he  consented  to  one  of  the  worst  Acts  of 
Parliament  ever  passed.  Under  this  law,  eve^  minister 
who  should  not  give  his  solemn  assent  to  the  Prayer-Book 
by  a  certain  day,  was  declared  to  be  a  minister  no  longer, 
and  to  be  deprived  of  his  church.  The  consequence  of  this 
was  that  some  two  thousand  honest  men  were  taken  from 
their  congregations,  and  reduced  to  dire  poverty  and  dis- 
tress. It  was  followed  by  another  outrageous  law,  called  the 
Conventicle  Act,  by  which  an}r  person  above  the  age  of  six- 
teen who  was  present  at  any  religious  service  not  according 
to  the  Prayer-Book,  was  to  be  imprisoned  three  months  for 
the  first  offence,  six  for  the  second,  and  to  be  transported 
for  the  third.  This  Act  alone  filled  the  prisons,  which  were 
then  most  dreadful  dungeons,  to  overflowing. 

The  Covenanters  in  Scotland  had  already  fared  no  better. 
A  base  Parliament,  usually  known  as  the  Drunken  Parlia- 
ment, in  consequence  of  its  principal  members  being  seldom 
sober,  had  been  got  together  to  make  laws  against  the  Cove- 
nanters, and  to  force  all  men  to  be  of  one  mind  in  religious 
matters.  The  MARQUIS  OF  ARGYLE,  relying  on  the  King's 
honor,  had  given  himself  up  to  him ;  but,  he  was  wealthy, 


CHARLES   THE   SECOND.  433 

and  his  enemies  wanted  his  wealth.  He  was  tried  for  trea- 
son, on  the  evidence  of  some  private  letters  in  which  he  had 
expressed  opinions  —  as  well  he  might  —  more  favorable  to 
the  government  of  the  late  Lord  Protector  than  of  the 
present  merry  and  religions  King.  He  was  executed,  as 
were  two  men  of  mark  among  the  Covenanters  ;  and  SHAKP, 
a  traitor  who  had  once  been  the  friend  of  the  Presbyterians 
and  betrayed  them,  was  made  Archbishop  of  St.  Andrew's, 
to  teach  the  Scotch  how  to  like  bishops. 

Things  being  in  this  merry  state  at  home,  the  Merry  Mon- 
arch undertook  a  war  with  the  Dutch ;  principally  because 
they  interfered  with  an  African  company,  established  with 
the  two  objects  of  buying  gold-dust  and  slaves,  of  which  the 
Duke  of  York  was  a  leading  member.  After  some  prelim- 
inary hostilities,  the  said  Duke  sailed  to  the  coast  of  Holland 
with  a  fleet  of  ninety-eight  vessels  of  war,  and  four  fire-ships. 
This  engaged  with  the  Dutch  fleet,  of  no  fewer  than  one 
hundred  and  thirteen  ships.  In  the  great  battle  between  the 
two  forces,  the  Dutch  lost  eighteen  ships,  four  admirals,  and 
seven  thousand  men.  But,  the  English  on  shore  were  in  no 
mood  of  exultation  when  they  heard  the  news. 

For,  this  was  the  year  and  the  time  of  the  Great  Plague 
in  London.  During  the  winter  of  one  thousand  six  hundred 
and  sixty-four  it  had  been  whispered  about,  that  some  few 
people  had  died  here  and  there  of  the  disease  called  the 
Plague,  in  some  of  the  unwholesome  suburbs  around  London. 
News  was  not  published  at  that  time  as  it  is  now,  and  some 
people  believed  these  rumors,  and  some  disbelieved  them, 
and  they  were  soon  forgotten.  But,  in  the  month  of  May, 
one  thousand  six  hundred  and  sixty-five,  it  began  to  be  said 
all  over  the  town  that  the  disease  had  burst  out  with  great 
violence  in  St.  Giles's,  and  that  the  people  were  dying  in 
great  numbers.  This  soon  turned  out  to  be  awfully  true. 
The  roads  out  of  London  were  choked  up  by  people  endeav- 
oring to  escape  from  the  infected  city,  and  large  sums  were 
paid  for  any  kind  of  conveyance.  The  disease  soon  spread 

23 


434  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND. 

so  fast,  that  it  was  necessaiy  to  shut  up  the  houses  in  which 
sick  people  were,  and  to  cut  them  off  from  communication 
with  the  living.  Every  one  of  these  houses  was  marked  on 
the  outside  of  the  door  with  a  red  cross,  and  the  words,  Lord, 
have  mercy  upon  us !  The  streets  were  all  deserted,  grass 
grew  in  the  public  ways,  and  there  was  a  dreadful  silence  in 
the  air.  When  night  came  on,  dismal  rumblings  used  to  be 
heard,  and  these  were  the  wheels  of  the  death-carts,  attended 
by  men  with  veiled  faces  and  holding  cloths  to  their  mouths, 
who  rang  doleful  bells  and  cried  in  a  loud  and  solemn  voice, 
"Bring  out  your  dead!"  The  corpses  put  into  these  carts 
were  buried  by  torchlight  in  great  pits  ;  no  service  being  per- 
formed over  them ;  all  men  being  afraid  to  stay  for  a  moment 
on  the  brink  of  the  ghastly  graves.  Jn  the  general  fear, 
children  ran  away  from  their  parents,  and  parents  from  their 
children.  Some  who  were  taken  ill,  died  alone,  and  with- 
out any  help.  Some  were  stabbed  or  strangled  by  hired 
nurses  who  robbed  them  of  all  their  money,  and  stole  the 
very  beds  on  which  they  la}'.  Some  went  mad,  dropped 
from  the  windows,  ran  through  the  streets,  and  in  their  pain 
and  frenzy  flung  themselves  into  the  river. 

These  were  not  all  the  horrors  of  the  time.  The  wicked 
and  dissolute,  in  wild  desperation,  sat  in  the  taverns  singing 
roaring  songs,  and  were  stricken  as  they  drank,  and  went 
out  and  died.  The  fearful  and  superstitious  persuaded  them- 
selves that  they  saw  supernatural  sights  — burning  swords  in 
the  sky,  gigantic  arms  and  darts.  Others  pretended  that 
at  nights  vast  crowds  of  ghosts  walked  round  and  round  the 
dismal  pits.  One  madman,  naked,  and  carrying  a  brazier 
full  of  burning  coals  upon  his  head,  stalked  through  the 
streets,  crying  out  that  he  was  a  Prophet,  commissioned  to 
denounce  the  vengeance  of  the  Lord  on  wicked  London. 
Another  always  went  to  and  fro,  exclaiming,  "Yet  forty 
days,  and  London  shall  be  destroyed !  "  A  third  awoke 
the  echoes  in  the  dismal  streets,  by  night  and  by  da}', 
and  made  the  blood  of  the  sick  run  cold,  by  calling  out  in- 


CHARLES  THE  SECOND.  435 

cessantly,  in  a  deep  hoarse  voice,  "  0,  the  great  and  dread- 
ful God!  " 

Through  the  months  of  July  and  August  and  September, 
the  Great  Plague  raged  more  and  more.  Great  fires  were 
lighted  in  the  streets,  in  the  hope  of  stopping  the  infection  ; 
but  there  was  a  plague  of  rain  too,  and  it  beat  the  fires  out. 
At  last,  the  winds  which  usually  arise  at  that  time  of  the 
year  which  is  called  the  equinox,  when  day  and  night  are  of 
equal  length  all  over  the  world,  began  to  blow,  and  to  purify 
the  wretched  town.  The  deaths  began  to  decrease,  the  red 
crosses  slowly  to  disappear,  the  fugitives  to  return,  the  shops 
to  open,  pale  frightened  faces  to  be  seen  in  the  streets.  The 
Plague  had  been  in  every  part  of  England,  but  in  close  and 
unwholesome  London  it  had  killed  one  hundred  thousand 
people. 

All  this  time,  the  Merry  Monarch  was  as  merry  as  ever,  and 
as  worthless  as  ever.  All  this  time,  the  debauched  lords 
and  gentlemen  and  the  shameless  ladies  danced  and  gamed 
and  drank,  and  loved  and  hated  one  another,  according  to 
their  merry  ways.  So  little  humanity  did  the  government 
learn  from  the  late  affliction,  that  one  of  the  first  things  the 
Parliament  did  when  it  met  at  Oxford  (being  as  yet  afraid  to 
come  to  London) ,  was  to  make  a  law,  called  the  Five  Mile 
Act,  expressly  directed  against  those  poor  ministers,  who, 
in  the  time  of  the  Plague,  had  manfully  come  back  to  com- 
fort the  unhappy  people.  This  infamous  law,  by  forbidding 
them  to  teach  in  any  school,  or  to  come  within  five  miles  of 
any  city,  town,  or  village,  doomed  them  to  starvation  and 
death. 

The  fleet  had  been  at  sea,  and  healthy.  The  King  of 
France  was  now  in  alliance  with  the  Dutch,  though  his  navy 
was  chiefly  employed  in  looking  on  while  the  English  and 
Dutch  fought.  The  Dutch  gained  one  victory  ;  and  the  Eng- 
lish gained  another  and  a  greater ;  and  Prince  Rupert,  one 
of  the  English  admirals,  was  out  in  the  Channel  one  windy 
night,  looking  for  the  French  admiral,  with  the  intention  of 


436  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF   ENGLAND. 

giving  him  something  more  to  do  than  he  had  had  yet,  when 
the  gale  increased  to  a  storm,  and  blew  him  into  Saint  Helen's. 
That  night  was  the  third  of  September,  one  thousand  six 
hundred  and  sixty-six,  and  that  wind  fanned  the  Great  Fire 
of  London. 

It  broke  out  at  a  baker's  shop  near  London  Bridge,  on  the 
spot  on  which  the  Monument  now  stands  as  a  remembrance 
of  those  raging  flames.  It  spread  and  spread,  and  burned 
and  burned,  for  three  days.  The  nights  were  lighter  than 
the  days ;  in  the  day-time  there  was  an  immense  cloud  of 
smoke,  and  in  the  night-time  there  was  a  great  tower  of  fire 
mounting  up  into  the  sky,  which  lighted  the  whole  country 
landscape  for  ten  miles  round.  Showers  of  hot  ashes  rose 
into  the  air  and  fell  on  distant  places ;  flying  sparks  carried 
the  conflagration  to  great  distances,  and  kindled  it  in  twenty 
new  spots  at  a  time  ;  church  steeples  fell  down  with  tremen- 
dous crashes  ;  houses  crumbled  into  cinders  by  the  hundred 
and  the  thousand.  The  summer  had  been  intensely  hot  and 
dry,  the  streets  were  very  narrow,  and  the  houses  mostly 
built  of  wood  and  plaster.  Nothing  could  stop  the  tremen- 
dous fire,  but  the  want  of  more  houses  to  burn ;  nor  did  it 
stop  until  the  whole  way  from  the  Tower  to  Temple  Bar  was 
a  desert,  composed  of  the  ashes  of  thirteen  thousand  houses 
and  eighty-nine  churches. 

This  was  a  terrible  visitation  at  the  time,  and  occasioned 
great  loss  and  suffering  to  the  two  hundred  thousand  burnt-out 
people,  who  were  obliged  to  lie  in  the  fields  under  the  open 
night  sky,  or  in  hastily-made  huts  of  mud  and  straw,  while  the 
lanes  and  roads  were  rendered  impassable  by  carts  which  had 
broken  down  as  they  tried  to  save  their  goods.  But  the  Fire 
was  a  great  blessing  to  the  City  afterwards,  for  it  arose  from 
its  ruins  very  much  improved  —  built  more  regularly,  more 
widely,  more  cleanly  and  carefully,  and  therefore  much  more 
healthily.  It  might  be  far  more  healthy  than  it  is,  but  there 
are  some  people  in  it  still  —  even  now,  at  this  time,  nearly 
two  hundred  3'ears  later  —  so  selfish,  so  pig-headed,  and  so 


CHARLES   THE   SECOND.  437 

ignorant,  that  I  doubt  if  even  another  Great  Fire  would  warm 
them  up  to  do  their  duty. 

The  Catholics  were  accused  of  having  wilfully  set  London 
in  flames  ;  one  poor  Frenchman,  who  had  been  mad  for  years, 
even  accused  himself  of  having  with  his  own  hand  fired  the 
first  house.  There  is  no  reasonable  doubt,  however,  that  the 
fire  was  accidental.  An  inscription  on  the  Monument  long 
attributed  it  to  the  Catholics ;  but  it  is  removed  now,  and 
was  always  a  malicious  and  stupid  untruth. 


SECOND  PART. 

THAT  the  Merry  Monarch  might  be  very  merry  indeed,  in 
the  merry  times  when  his  people  were  suffering  under  pesti- 
lence and  fire,  he  drank  and  gambled  and  flung  away  among 
his  favorites  the  money  which  the  Parliament  had  voted  for 
the  war.  The  consequence  of  this  was  that  the  stout-hearted 
English  sailors  were  merril}7  starving  of  want,  and  dying  in 
the  streets ;  while  the  Dutch,  under  their  admirals  DE  WITT 
and  DE  RUYTER,  came  into  the  River  Thames,  and  up  the 
River  Medway  as  far  as  Upnor,  burned  the  guard-ships, 
silenced  the  weak  batteries,  and  did  what  the}*  would  to  the 
English  coast  for  six  whole  weeks.  Most  of  the  English 
ships  that  could  have  prevented  them  had  neither  powder  nor 
shot  on  board ;  in  this  merry  reign,  public  officers  made 
themselves  as  merry  as  the  King  did  with  the  public  money ; 
and  when  it  was  entrusted  to  them  to  spend  in  national  de- 
fences or  preparations,  they  put  it  into  their  own  pockets  with 
the  merriest  grace  in  the  world. 

Lord  Clarendon  had,  by  this  time,  run  as  long  a  course  as 
is  usually  allotted  to  the  unscrupulous  ministers  of  bad  kings. 
He  was  impeached  by  his  political  opponents,  but  unsuccess- 
fully. The  King  then,  commanded  him  to  withdraw  from 
England  and  retire  to  France,  which  he  did,  after  defending 


438  A  CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF   ENGLAND. 

himself  in  writing.  He  was  no  great  loss  at  home,  and  died 
abroad  some  seven  years  afterwards. 

There  then  came  into  power  a  ministry  called  the  Cabal 
Ministry,  because  it  was  composed  of  LORD  CLIFFORD,  the 
EARL  OF  ARLINGTON,  the  DUKE  OF  BUCKINGHAM  (a  great  ras- 
cal, and  the  King's  most  powerful  favorite),  LORD  ASHLEY, 
and  the  DUKE  OF  LAUDERDALE,  c.  A.  B.  A.  L.  As  the  French 
were  making  conquests  in  Flanders,  the  first  Cabal  proceed- 
ing was  to  make  a  treaty  with  the  Dutch,  for  uniting  with 
Spain  to  oppose  the  French.  It  was  no  sooner  made  than 
the  Merry  Monarch,  who  always  wanted  to  get  mone}*  without 
being  accountable  to  a  Parliament  for  his  expenditure,  apolo- 
gized to  the  King  of  France  for  having  had  anything  to  do 
with  it,  and  concluded  a  secret  treaty  with  him,  making  him- 
self his  infamous  pensioner  to  the  amount  of  two  millions  of 
livres  down,  and  three  millions  more  a  year ;  and  engaging 
to  desert  that  very  Spain,  to  make  war  against  those  very 
Dutch,  and  to  declare  himself  a  Catholic  when  a  convenient 
time  should  arrive.  This  religious  king  had  lately  been  cry- 
ing to  his  Catholic  brother  on  the  subject  of  his  strong  desire 
to  be  a  Catholic ;  and  now  he  merrily  concluded  this  treason- 
able conspiracy  against  the  countr}r  he  governed,  by  under- 
taking to  become  one  as  soon  as  he  safely  could.  For  all  of 
which,  though  he  had  had  ten  merry  heads  instead  of  one,  he 
richly  deserved  to  lose  them  by  the  headsman's  axe. 

As  his  one  merry  head  might  have  been  far  from  safe,  if 
these  things  had  been  known,  they  were  kept  very  quiet,  and 
war  was  declared  by  France  and  England  against  the  Dutch. 
But,  a  very  uncommon  man,  afterwards  most  important  to 
English  history  and  to  the  religion  and  liberty  of  this  land, 
arose  among  them,  and  for  many  long  years  defeated  the 
whole  projects  of  France.  This  was  WILLIAM  OF  NASSAU, 
PRINCE  OF  ORANGE,  son  of  the  last  Prince  of  Orange  of  the 
same  name,  who  married  the  daughter  of  Charles  the  First 
of  England.  He  was  a  young  man  at  this  time,  onby  just  of 
age ;  but  he  was  brave,  cool,  intrepid,  and  wise.  His  father 


CHARLES  THE   SECOND.  439 

had  been  so  detested  that,  upon  his  death,  the  Dutch  had 
abolished  the  authority  to  which  this  son  would  have  other- 
wise succeeded  (Stadtholder  it  was  called),  and  placed  the 
chief  power  in  the  hands  of  JOHN  DE  WITT,  who  educated 
this  young  prince.  Now,  the  Prince  became  very  popular, 
and  John  de  Witt's  brother  CORNELIUS  was  sentenced  to  ban- 
ishment on  a  false  accusation  of  conspiring  to  kill  him.  John 
went  to  the  prison  where  he  was,  to  take  him  away  to  exile, 
in  his  coach ;  and  a  great  mob  who  collected  on  the  occasion, 
then  and  there  cruelly  murdered  both  the  brothers.  This 
left  the  government  in  the  hands  of  the  Prince,  who  was 
Teally  the  choice  of  the  nation  ;  and  from  this  time  he  exer- 
cised it  with  the  greatest  vigor,  against  the  whole  power  of 
France,  under  its  famous  generals  CONDE  and  TURENNE,  and 
in  support  of  the  Protestant  religion.  It  was  full  seven  }'ears 
before  this  war  ended  in  a  treaty  of  peace  made  at  Nimeguen, 
and  its  details  would  occupy  a  very  considerable  space.  It 
is  enough  to  say  that  William  of  Orange  established  a  famous 
character  with  the  whole  world  ;  and  that  the  Merry  Monarch, 
adding  to  and  improving  on  his  former  baseness,  bound  him- 
self to  do  everything  the  King  of  France  liked,  and  noth- 
ing the  King  of  France  did  not  like,  for  a  pension  of  one 
hundred  thousand  pounds  a  year,  which  was  afterwards 
doubled.  Besides  this,  the  King  of  France,  by  means  of  his 
corrupt  ambassador  —  who  wrote  accounts  of  his  proceedings 
in  England,  which  are  not  alwa}-s  to  be  believed,  I  think  — 
bought  our  English  members  of  Parliament,  as  he  wanted 
them.  So,  in  point  of  fact,  during  a  considerable  portion 
of  this  merry  reign,  the  King  of  France  was  the  real  King 
of  this  country. 

But  there  was  a  better  time  to  come,  and  it  was  to  come 
(though  his  royal  uncle  little  thought  so)  through  that  very 
William,  Prince  of  Orange.  He  came  over  to  England,  saw 
Mary,  the  elder  daughter  of  the  Duke  of  York,  and  married 
her.  We  shall  see  by-and-by  what  came  of  that  marriage, 
and  why  it  is  never  to  be  forgotten. 


440  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

This  daughter  was  a  Protestant,  but  her  mother  died  a 
Catholic.  She  and  her  sister  ANNE,  also  a  Protestant,  were 
the  only  survivors  of  eight  children.  Anne  afterwards  mar- 
ried GEORGE,  PRINCE  OF  DENMARK,  brother  to  the  King  of 
that  country. 

Lest  3rou  should  do  the  Merry  Monarch  the  injustice  of 
supposing  that  he  was  even  good-humored  (except  when  he 
had  everything  his  own  way),  or  that  he  was  high-spirited 
and  honorable,  I  will  mention  here  what  was  done  to  a  mem- 
ber of  the  House  of  Commons,  SIR  JOHN  COVENTRY.  He 
made  a  remark  in  a  debate  about  taxing  the  theatres,  which 
gave  the  King  offence.  The  King  agreed  with  his  illegitimate 
son,  who  had  been  born  abroad,  and  whom  he  had  made 
DUKE  OF  MONMOUTH,  to  take  the  following  merry  vengeance. 
To  wa3"lay  him  at  night,  fifteen  armed  men  to  one,  and  to  slit 
his  nose  with  a  penknife.  Like  master,  like  man.  The 
King's  favorite,  the  Duke  of  Buckingham,  was  strongly  sus- 
pected of  setting  on  an  assassin  to  murder  the  DUKE  OF  OR- 
MOND  as  he  was  returning  home  from  a  dinner ;  and  that 
Duke's  spirited  son,  LORD  OSSORY,  was  so  persuaded  of  his 
guilt,  that  he  said  to  him  at  Court,  even  as  he  stood  beside 
the  King,  "  My  lord,  I  know  very  well  that  yon  are  at  the 
bottom  of  this  late  attempt  upon  my  father.  But  I  give  you 
warning,  if  he  ever  come  to  a  violent  end,  his  blood  shall  be 
upon  3'ou,  and  wherever  I  meet  you  I  will  pistol  you  !  I  will 
do  so,  though  I  find  you  standing  behind  the  King's  chair ; 
and  I  tell  you  this  in  his  Majesty's  presence,  that  you  may  be 
quite  sure  of  my  doing  what  I  threaten."  Those  were  merry 
times  indeed. 

There  was  a  fellow  named  BLOOD,  who  was  seized  for 
making,  with  two  companions,  an  audacious  attempt  to  steal 
the  crown,  the  globe,  and  sceptre,  from  the  place  where  the 
jewels  were  kept  in  the  Tower.  This  robber,  who  was  a 
swaggering  ruffian,  being  taken,  declared  that  he  was  the 
man  who  had  endeavored  to  kill  the  Duke  of  Ormond,  and 
that  he  had  meant  to  kill  the  King  too,  but  was  overawed  by 


CHARLES   THE   SECOND.  441 

the  majesty  of  his  appearance,  when  he  might  otherwise  have 
done  it,  as  he  was  bathing  at  Battersea.  The  King  being  but 
an  ill-looking  fellow,  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  this.  Whether 
he  was  flattered,  or  whether  he  knew  that  Buckingham  had 
really  set  Blood  on  to  murder  the  Duke,  is  uncertain.  But  it 
is  quite  certain  that  he  pardoned  this  thief,  gave  him  an  es- 
tate of  five  hundred  a  year  in  Ireland  (which  had  had  the 
honor  of  giving  him  birth) ,  and  presented  him  at  Court  to 
the  debauched  lords  and  the  shameless  ladies,  who  made  a 
great  deal  of  him —  as  I  have  no  doubt  they  would  have  made 
of  the  Devil  himself,  if  the  King  had  introduced  him. 

Infamously  pensioned  as  he  was,  the  King  still  wanted 
money,  and  consequently  was  obliged  to  call  Parliaments. 
In  these,  the  great  object  of  the  Protestants  was  to  thwart  the 
Catholic  Duke  of  York,  who  married  a  second  time  ;  his  new 
wife  being  a  young  lady  only  fifteen  years  old,  the  Catholic 
sister  of  the  DUKE  OF  MODENA.  In  this  they  were  seconded 
by  the  Protestant  Dissenters,  though  to  their  own  disadvan- 
tage :  since,  to  exclude  Catholics  from  power,  they  were  even 
willing  to  exclude  themselves.  The  King's  object  was  to 
pretend  to  be  a  Protestant,  while  he  was  really  a  Catholic ; 
to  swear  to  the  Bishops  that  he  was  devoutly  attached  to  the 
English  Church,  while  he  knew  he  had  bargained  it  away  to 
the  King  of  France ;  and  by  cheating  and  deceiving  them, 
and  all  who  were  attached  to  royalty,  to  become  despotic  and 
be  powerful  enough  to  confess  what  a  rascal  he  was.  Mean- 
time the  King  of  France,  knowing  his  merry  pensioner  well, 
intrigued  with  the  King's  opponents  in  Parliament,  as  well  as 
with  the  King  and  his  friends. 

The  fears  that  the  country  had  of  the  Catholic  religion  be- 
ing restored,  if  the  Duke  of  York  should  come  to  the  throne, 
and  the  low  cunning  of  the  King  in  pretending  to  share  their 
alarms,  led  to  some  very  terrible  results.  A  certain  DR. 
TONGE,  a  dull  clergyman  in  the  city,  fell  into  the  hands  of  a 
certain  TITUS  GATES,  a  most  infamous  character,  who  pre- 
tended to  have  acquired  among  the  Jesuits  abroad  a  kuowl- 


442  A   CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

edge  of  a  great  plot  for  the  murder  of  the  King,  and  the 
re-establishment  of  the  Catholic  religion.  Titus  Gates  being 
produced  by  this  unlucky  Dr.  Tonge  and  solemnly  examined 
before  the  council,  contradicted  himself  in  a  thousand  wa}'s, 
told  the  most  ridiculous  and  improbable  stories,  and  impli- 
cated COLEMAN,  the  Secretaiy  of  the  Duchess  of  York.  Now, 
although  what  he  charged  against  Coleman  was  not  true,  and 
although  you  and  I  know  veiy  well  that  the  real  dangerous 
Catholic  plot  was  that  one  with  the  King  of  France  of  which 
the  Merry  Monarch  was  himself  the  head,  there  happened  to 
be  found  among  Coleman's  papers,  some  letters,  in  which  he 
did  praise  the  days  of  Bloody  Queen  Mary,  and  abuse  the 
Protestant  religion.  This  was  great  good  fortune  for  Titus, 
as  it  seemed  to  confirm  him  ;  but  better  still  was  in  store. 
SIR  EDMUNDBURY  GODFREY,  the  magistrate  who  had  first  ex- 
amined him,  being  unexpectedly  found  dead  near  Primrose 
Hill,  was  confidently  believed  to  have  been  killed  by  the 
Catholics.  I  think  there  is  no  doubt  that  he  had  been  mel- 
ancholy mad,  and  that  he  killed  himself;  but  he  had  a  great 
Protestant  funeral,  and  Titus  was  called  the  Saver  of  the 
Nation,  and  received  a  pension  of  twelve  hundred  pounds  a 
year. 

As  soon  as  Oates's  wickedness  had  met  with  this  success, 
up  started  another  villain,  named  WILLIAM  BEDLOE,  who, 
attracted  by  a  reward  of  five  hundred  pounds  offered  for  the 
apprehension  of  the  murderers  of  Godfrey,  came  forward  and 
charged  two  Jesuits  and  some  other  persons  with  having 
committed  it  at  the  Queen's  desire.  Gates,  going  into  part- 
nership with  this  new  informer,  had  the  audacity  to  accuse 
the  poor  Queen  herself  of  high  treason.  Then  appeared  a 
third  informer,  as  bad  as  either  of  the  two,  and  accused 
a  Catholic  banker  named  STAYLEY  of  having  said  that  the 
King  was  the  greatest  rogue  in  the  world  (which  would  not 
have  been  far  from  the  truth) ,  and  that  he  would  kill  him 
with  his  own  hand.  This  banker,  being  at  once  tried  and 
executed,  Coleman  and  two  others  were  tried  and  executed. 


CHARLES   THE   SECOND.  443 

Then,  a  miserable  wretch  named  PRANCE,  a  Catholic  silver- 
smith, being  accused  by  Bedloe,  was  tortured  into  confessing 
that  he  had  taken  part  in  Godfrey's  murder,  and  into  accus- 
ing three  other  men  of  having  committed  it.  Then,  five  Jes- 
iiits  were  accused  by  Gates,  Bedloe,  and  Prance  together, 
and  were  all  found  guilty,  and  executed  on  the  same  kind  of 
contradictory  and  absurd  evidence.  The  Queen's  physician 
and  three  monks  were  next  put  on  their  trial ;  but  Gates  and 
Bedloe  had  for  the  time  gone  far  enough,  and  these  four  were 
acquitted.  The  public  mind,  however,  was  so  full  of  a  Cath- 
olic plot,  and  so  strong  against  the  Duke  of  York,  that  James 
consented  to  obey  a  written  order  from  his  brother,  and  to 
go  with  his  family  to  Brussels,  provided  that  his  rights  should 
never  be  sacrificed  in  his  absence  to  the  Duke  of  Mon mouth. 
The  House  of  Commons,  not  satisfied  with  this  as  the  King 
hoped,  passed  a  bill  to  exclude  the  Duke  from  ever  succeed- 
ing to  the  throne.  In  return,  the  King  dissolved  the  Par- 
liament. He  had  deserted  his  old  favorite,  the  Duke  of 
Buckingham,  who  was  now  in  the  opposition. 

To  give  any  sufficient  idea  of  the  miseries  of  Scotland  in 
this  merry  reign,  would  occupy  a  hundred  pages.  Because 
the  people  would  not  have  bishops,  and  were  resolved  to 
stand  by  their  Solemn  League  and  Covenant,  such  cruelties 
were  inflicted  upon  them  as  make  the  blood  run  cold.  Fero- 
cious dragoons  galloped  through  the  countiy  to  punish  the 
peasants  for  deserting  the  churches  ;  sons  were  hanged  up  at 
their  fathers'  doors  for  refusing  to  disclose  where  their  fathers 
were  concealed ;  wives  were  tortured  to  death  for  not  betray- 
ing their  husbands ;  people  were  taken  out  of  their  fields  and 
gardens,  and  shot  on  the  public  roads  without  trial ;  lighted 
matches  were  tied  to  the  fingers  of  prisoners,  and  a  most 
horrible  torment  called  the  Boot  was  invented,  and  constantly 
applied,  which  ground  and  mashed  the  victims'  legs  with  iron 
wedges.  Witnesses  were  tortured  as  well  as  prisoners.  All 
the  prisons  were  full ;  all  the  gibbets  were  heavj-  with  bodies  ; 
murder  and  plunder  devastated  the  whole  country.  In  spite 


444  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

of  all,  the  Covenanters  were  by  no  means  to  be  dragged  into 
the  churches,  and  persisted  in  worshipping  God  as  they 
thought  right.  A  body  of  ferocious  Highlanders,  turned 
upon  them  from  the  mountains  of  their  own  country,  had  no 
greater  effect  than  the  English  dragoons  under  GRAHAME  OP 
CLAVERHOUSE,  the  most  cruel  and  rapacious  of  all  their  ene- 
mies, whose  name  will  ever  be  cursed  through  the  length  and 
breadth  of  Scotland.  Archbishop  Sharp  had  ever  aided  and 
abetted  all  these  outrages.  But  he  fell  at  last ;  for  when  the 
injuries  of  the  Scottish  people  were  at  their  height,  he  was 
seen,  in  his  coach-and-six  coming  across  a  moor,  by  a  body 
of  men,  headed  b}-  one  JOHN  BALFOUR,  who  were  waiting  for 
another  of  their  oppressors.  Upon  this  they  cried  out  that 
Heaven  had  delivered  him  into  their  hands,  and  killed  him 
with  many  wounds.  If  ever  a  man  deserved  such  a  death,  I 
think  Archbishop  Sharp  did. 

It  made  a  great  noise  directly,  and  the  Meny  Monarch  — 
strongly  suspected  of  having  goaded  the  Scottish  people  on, 
that  he  might  have  an  excuse  for  a  greater  army  than  the 
Parliament  were  willing  to  give  him  —  sent  down  his  son,  the 
Duke  of  Monmouth,  as  commander-in-chief,  with  instructions 
to  attack  the  Scottish  rebels,  or  Whigs,  as  they  were  called, 
whenever  he  came  up  with  them.  Marching  with  ten  thou- 
sand men  from  Edinburgh,  he  found  them,  in  number  four  or 
five  thousand,  drawn  up  at  Bothwell  Bridge,  by  the  Clyde. 
The}7  were  soon  dispersed ;  and  Monmouth  showed  a  more 
humane  character  towards  them,  than  he  had  shown  towards 
that  Member  of  Parliament  whose  nose  he  had  caused  to  be 
slit  with  a  penknife.  But  the  Duke  of  Lauderdale  was  their 
bitter  foe,  and  sent  Claverhouse  to  finish  them. 

As  the  Duke  of  York  became  more  and  more  unpopular, 
the  Duke  of  Monmouth  became  more  and  more  popular.  It 
would  have  been  decent  in  the  latter  not  to  have  voted  in 
favor  of  the  renewed  bill  for  the  exclusion  of  James  from  the 
throne  ;  but  he  did  so,  much  to  the  King's  amusement,  who 
used  to  sit  in  the  House  of  Lords  by  the  fire,  hearing  the  de- 


CHARLES  THE  SECOND.  445 

bates,  which  he  said  were  as  good  as  a  play.  The  House  of 
Commons  passed  the  bill  by  a  large  majority,  and  it  was 
carried  up  to  the  House  of  Lords  by  LORD  RUSSELL,  one  of 
the  best  of  the  leaders  on  the  Protestant  side.  It  was  re- 
jected there,  chiefly  because  the  Bishops  helped  the  King  to 
get  rid  of  it ;  and  the  fear  of  Catholic  plots  revived  again, 
There  had  been  another  got  up,  by  a  fellow  out  of  Newgate, 
named  DANGERFIELD,  which  is  more  famous  than  it  deserves 
to  be,  under  the  name  of  the  MEAL-TUB  PLOT.  This  jail- 
bird having  been  got  out  of  Newgate  by  a  MRS.  CELLIER,  a 
Catholic  nurse,  had  turned  Catholic  himself,  and  pretended 
that  he  knew  of  a  plot  among  the  Presbj-terians  against  the 
King's  life.  This  was  very  pleasant  to  the  Duke  of  York, 
who  hated  the  Presbyterians,  who  returned  the  compliment. 
He  gave  Dangerfield  twenty  guineas,  and  sent  him  to  the 
King  his  brother.  But  Dangerfield,  breaking  down  alto- 
gether in  his  charge,  and  being  sent  back  to  Newgate,  almost 
astonished  the  Duke  out  of  his  five  senses  b}'  suddenly  swear- 
ing that  the  Catholic  nurse  had  put  that  false  design  into  his 
head,  and  that  what  he  really  knew  about,  was,  a  Catholic 
plot  against  the  King ;  the  evidence  of  which  would  be  found 
in  some  papers,  concealed  in  a  meal-tub  in  Mrs.  Cellier's 
house.  There  they  were,  of  course  —  for  he  had  put  them 
there  himself —  and  so  the  tub  gave  the  name  to  the  plot. 
But,  the  nurse  was  acquitted  on  her  trial,  and  it  came  to 
nothing. 

Lord  Ashley,  of  the  Cabal,  was  now  Lord  Shaftesbury,  and 
was  strong  against  the  succession  of  the  Duke  of  York.  The 
House  of  Commons,  aggravated  to  the  utmost  extent,  as  we 
may  well  suppose,  by  suspicions  of  the  King's  conspiracy 
with  the  King  of  France,  made  a  desperate  point  of  the  ex- 
clusion still,  and  were  bitter  against  the  Catholics  generally. 
So  unjustly  bitter  were  they,  I  grieve  to  say,  that  they  im- 
peached the  venerable  Lord  Stafford,  a  Catholic  nobleman 
seventy  years  old,  of  a  design  to  kill  the  King.  The  wit- 
nesses were  that  atrocious  Gates  and  two  other  birds  of  the 


446  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

same  feather.  He  was  found  guilt}",  on  evidence  quite  as 
foolish  as  it  was  false,  and  was  beheaded  on  Tower  Hill. 
The  people  were  opposed  to  him  when  he  first  appeared  upon 
the  scaffold ;  but,  when  he  had  addressed  them  and  shown 
them  how  innocent  he  was  and  how  wickedly  he  was  sent 
there,  their  better  nature  was  aroused,  and  the}-  said,  "We 
believe  }"ou,  my  Lord.  God  bless  you,  my  Lord  !  " 

The  House  of  Commons  refused  to  let  the  King  have  any 
money  until  he  should  consent  to  the  Exclusion  Bill ;  but,  as 
he  could  get  it  and  did  get  it  from  his  master  the  King  of 
France,  he  could  afford  to  hold  them  very  cheap.  He  called 
a  Parliament  at  Oxford,  to  which  he  went  down  with  a  great 
show  of  being  armed  and  protected  as  if  he  were  in  danger 
of  his  life,  and  to  which  the  opposition  members  also  went 
armed  and  protected,  alleging  that  the}7  were  in  fear  of  the 
Papists,  who  were  numerous  among  the  King's  guards.  How- 
ever, they  went  on  with  the  Exclusion  Bill,  and  were  so  ear- 
nest upon  it  that  they  would  have  carried  it  again,  if  the  King 
had  not  popped  his  crown  and  state  robes  into  a  sedan-chair, 
bundled  himself  into  it  along  with  them,  hurried  down  to  the 
chamber  where  the  House  of  Lords  met,  and  dissolved  the 
Parliament.  After  which  he  scampered  home,  and  the  mem- 
bers of  Parliament  scampered  home  too,  as  fast  as  their  legs 
could  cany  them. 

The  Duke  of  York,  then  residing  in  Scotland,  had,  under 
the  law  which  excluded  Catholics  from  public  trust,  no  right 
whatever  to  public  employment.  Nevertheless,  he  was  openly 
employed  as  the  King's  representative  in  Scotland,  and  there 
gratified  his  sullen  and  cruel  nature  to  his  heart's  content 
by  directing  the  dreadful  cruelties  against  the  Covenanters. 
There  were  two  ministers  named  CARGILL  and  CAMERON  who 
had  escaped  from  the  battle  of  Bothwell  Bridge,  and  who 
returned  to  Scotland,  and  raised  the  miserable  but  still  brave 
and  unsubdued  Covenanters  afresh,  under  the  name  of  Cam- 
eronians.  As  Cameron  publicly  posted  a  declaration  that  the 
King  was  a  forsworn  tyrant,  no  mercy  was  shown  to  his  uii- 


CHARLES   THE   SECOND.  447 

happy  followers  after  lie  was  slain  in  battle.  The  Duke  of 
York,  who  was  particularly  fond  of  the  Boot  and  derived 
great  pleasure  from  having  it  applied,  offered  their  lives  to 
some  of  these  people,  if  they  would  cry  on  the  scaffold,  "God 
save  the  King !  "  But  their  relations,  friends,  and  country- 
men had  been  so  barbarously  tortured  and  murdered  in  this 
merry  reign,  that  the}'  preferred  to  die,  and  did  die.  The 
Duke  then  obtained  his  meriy  brother's  permission  to  hold  a 
Parliament  in  Scotland,  which  first,  with  most  shameless  de- 
ceit, confirmed  the  laws  for  securing  the  Protestant  religion 
against  Popery,  and  then  declared  that  nothing  must  or 
should  prevent  the  succession  of  a  Popish  Duke.  After  this 
double-faced  beginning,  it  established  an  oath  which  no 
human  being  could  understand,  but  which  everybody  was  to 
take,  as  a  proof  that  his  religion  was  the  lawful  religion. 
The  Earl  of  Argyle,  taking  it  with  the  explanation  that  he 
did  not  consider  it  to  prevent  him  from  favoring  an}-  alter- 
ation either  in  the  Church  or  State  which  was  not  inconsistent 
with  the  Protestant  religion  or  with  his  loyalty,  was  tried  for 
high  treason  before  a  Scottish  jury,  of  which  the  MARQUIS  OP 
MONTROSE  was  foreman,  and  was  found  guilty.  He  escaped 
the  scaffold,  for  that  time,  by  getting  away,  in  the  disguise 
of  a  page,  in  the  train  of  his  daughter,  LADY  SOPHIA  LINDSAY. 
It  was  absolutely  proposed,  by  certain  members  of  the  Scot- 
tish Council,  that  this  lady  should  be  whipped  through  the 
streets  of  Edinburgh.  But  this  was  too  much  even  for  the 
Duke,  who  had  the  manliness  then  (he  had  very  little  at 
most  times)  to  remark  that  Englishmen  were  not  accustomed 
to  treat  ladies  in  that  manner.  In  those  merry  times 
nothing  could  equal  the  brutal  servility  of  the  Scottish  fawn- 
ers, but  the  conduct  of  similar  degraded  beings  in  England. 

After  the  settlement  of  these  little  affairs,  the  Duke 
returned  to  England,  and  soon  resumed  his  place  nt  the  Coun- 
cil, and  his  office  of  High  Admiral  — all  this  by  his  brother's 
favor,  and  in  open  defiance  of  the  law.  It  would  have  been 
no  loss  to  the  country,  if  he  had  been  drowned  when  his  ship, 


448  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF   ENGLAND. 

in  going  to  Scotland  to  fetch  his  family,  struck  on  a  sand-bank, 
and  was  lost  with  two  hundred  souls  on  board.  But  he 
escaped  in  a  boat  with  some  friends  ;  and  the  sailors  were  so 
brave  and  unselfish,  that,  when  they  saw  him  rowing  away,  they 
gave  three  cheers,  while  they  themselves  were  going  down  for 
ever. 

The  Merry  Monarch,  having  got  rid  of  his  Parliament,  went 
to  work  to  make  himself  despotic,  with  all  speed.  Having 
had  the  villainy  to  order  the  execution  of  OLIVER  PLUNKET, 
BISHOP  OF  ARMAGH,  falsely  accused  of  a  plot  to  establish  Po- 
pery in  that  country  by  means  of  a  French  army  —  the  very 
thing  this  ro%yal  traitor  was  himself  trying  to  do  at  home  — 
and  having  tried  to  ruin  Lord  Shaftesbury,  and  failed  —  he 
turned  his  hand  to  controlling  the  corporations  all  over  the 
countiy  ;  because,  if  he  could  only  do  that,  he  could  get  what 
juries  he  chose,  to  bring  in  perjured  verdicts,  and  could  get 
what  members  he  chose,  returned  to  Parliament.  These  merry 
times  produced,  and  made  Chief  Justice  of  the  Court  of  King's 
Bench,  a  drunken  ruffian  of  the  name  of  JEFFREYS  ;  a  red- 
faced  swollen  bloated  horrible  creature,  with  a  bullying  roar- 
ing voice,  and  a  more  savage  nature  perhaps  than  was  ever 
lodged  in  any  human  breast.  This  monster  was  the  Merry 
Monarch's  especial  favorite,  and  he  testified  his  admiration 
of  him  by  giving  him  a  ring  from  his  own  finger,  which  the 
people  used  to  call  Judge  Jeffreys's  Blood-stone.  Him  the 
King  emplo3red  to  go  about  and  bully  the  corporations,  begin- 
ning with  London  ;  or,  as  Jeffreys  himself  elegantly  called  it, 
"  to  give  them  a  lick  with  the  rough  side  of  his  tongue."  And 
he  did  it  so  thorough!}-,  that  they  soon  became  the  basest  and 
most  sycophantic  bodies  in  the  kingdom  —  except  the  Univer- 
sity of  Oxford,  which,  in  that  respect,  was  quite  pre-eminent 
and  unapproachable. 

Lord  Shaftesbmy  (who  died  soon  after  the  King's  failure 
against  him),  LORD  WILLIAM  RUSSELL,  the  Duke  of  Mon- 
mouth,  LORD  HOWARD,  LORD  JERSEY,  ALGERNON  SIDNEY, 
JOHN  HAMPDEN  (grandson  of  the  great  Hampden) ,  and  some 


CHARLES  THE  SECOND.  449 

others,  used  to  hold  a  council  together  after  the  dissolution  of 
the  Parliament,  arranging  what  it  might  be  necessary  to  do, 
if  the  King  carried  his  Popish  plot  to  the  utmost  height. 
Lord  Shaftesbuiy  having  been  much  the  most  violent  of  this 
part}',  brought  two  violent  men  into  their  secrets  —  RCMSEY, 
who  had  been  a  soldier  in  the  Republican  army ;  and  WEST, 
a  lawyer.  These  two  knew  an  old  officer  of  Cromwell's, 
called  RUMBOLD,  who  had  married  a  maltster's  widow,  and  so 
had  come  into  possession  of  a  solitary  dwelling  called  the  Rye 
House,  near  Hoddesdon,  in  Hertfordshire.  Rumbold  said 
to  them  what  a  capital  place  this  house  of  his  would  be  from 
which  to  shoot  at  the  King,  who  often  passed  there  going 
to  and  fro  from  Newmarket.  They  liked  the  idea,  and  enter- 
tained it.  But,  one  of  their  body  gave  information  ;  and  they, 
together  with  SHEPHERD  a  wine  merchant,  Lord  Russell, 
Algernon  Sidney,  LORD  ESSEX,  LORD  HOWARD,  and  Hampden, 
were  all  arrested. 

Lord  Russell  might  have  easily  escaped,  but  scorned  to  do 
so,  being  innocent  of  an}"  wrong ;  Lord  Essex  might  have  eas- 
ily escaped,  but  scorned  to  do  so,  lest  his  flight  should  prejudice 
Lord  Russell.  But  it  weighed  upon  his  mind  that  he  had 
brought  into  their  council,  Lord  Howard — who  now  turned  a 
miserable  traitor — against  a  great  dislike  Lord  Russell  had 
always  had  of  him.  He  could  not  bear  the  reflection,  and 
destroyed  himself  before  Lord  Russell  was  brought  to  trial  at 
the  Old  Bailey. 

He  knew  very  well  that  he  had  nothing  to  hope,  having 
always  been  manful  in  the  Protestant  cause  against  the  two 
false  brothers,  the  one  on  the  throne,  and  the  other  standing 
next  to  it.  He  had  a  wife,  one  of  the  noblest  and  best  of 
women,  who  acted  as  his  secretary  on  his  trial,  who  comforted 
him  in  his  prison,  who  supped  with  him  on  the  night  before  he 
died,  and  whose  love  and  virtue  and  devotion  have  made  her 
name  imperishable.  Of  course,  he  was  found  guilty,  and  was 
sentenced  to  be  beheaded  in  Lincoln's  Inn-fields,  not  many 
yards  from  his  own  house.  When  he  had  parted  from  his  chil- 

29 


450  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

dren  on  the  evening  before  his  death,  his  wife  still  stayed  with 
him  until  ten  o'clock  at  night ;  and  when  their  final  separation 
in  this  world  was  over,  and  he  had  kissed  her  many  times, 
he  still  sat  for  a  long  while  in  his  prison,  talking  of  her  good- 
ness. Hearing  the  rain  fall  fast  at  the  time,  he  calmly  said, 
"  Such  a  rain  to-morrow  will  spoil  a  great  show,  which  is  a 
dull  thing  on  a  rainy  day."  At  midnight  he  went  to  bed, 
and  slept  till  four ;  even  when  his  servant  called  him,  he  fell 
asleep  again  while  his  clothes  were  being  made  read}'.  He 
rode  to  the  scaffold  in  his  own  carriage,  attended  by  two 
famous  clergymen,  TILLOTSON  and  BURNET,  and  sang  a  psalm 
to  himself  very  softly,  as  he  went  along.  He  was  as  quiet 
and  as  steady  as  if  he  had  been  going  out  for  an  ordinary 
ride.  After  saj'ing  that  he  was  surprised  to  see  so  great  a 
crowd,  he  laid  down  his  head  upon  the  block,  as  if  upon  the 
pillow  of  his  bed,  and  had  it  struck  off  at  the  second  blow. 
His  noble  wife  was  busy  for  him  even  then  ;  for  that  true- 
hearted  lady  printed  and  widely  circulated  his  last  words,  of 
which  he  had  given  her  a  copy.  They  made  the  blood  of  all 
the  honest  men  in  England  boil. 

The  University  of  Oxford  distinguished  itself  on  the  very 
same  da3r  b}T  pretending  to  believe  that  the  accusation  against 
Lord  Russell  was  true,  and  by  calling  the  King,  in  a  written 
paper,  the  Breath  of  their  Nostrils  and  the  Anointed  of  the 
Lord.  This  paper  the  Parliament  afterwards  caused  to  be 
burned  by  the  common  hangman ;  which  I  am  sorry  for,  as  I 
wish  it  had  been  framed  and  glazed  and  hung  up  in  some 
public  place,  as  a  monument  of  baseness  for  the  scorn  of 
mankind. 

Next,  came  the  trial  of  Algernon  Sidney,  at  which  Jeffreys 
presided,  like  a  great  crimson  toad,  sweltering  and  swelling 
with  rage.  "  I  pray  God,  Mr.  Sidney,"  said  this  Chief  Jus- 
tice of  a  merry  reign,  after  passing  sentence,  "  to  work  in  you 
a  temper  fit  to  go  to  the  other  world,  for  I  see  you  are  not 
fit  for  this."  "  My  lord,"  said  the  prisoner,  composedly  hold- 
ing out  his  arm,  "  feel  my  pulse,  and  see  if  I  be  disordered.  I 


CHARLES  THE  SECOND.  451 

thank  Heaven  I  never  was  in  better  temper  than  I  am  now." 
Algernon  Sidney  was  executed  on  Tower  Hill,  on  the  seventh 
of  December,  one  thousand  six  hundred  and  eighty-three. 
He  died  a  hero,  and  died,  in  his  own  words,  "  For  that  good 
old  cause  in  which  he  had  been  engaged  from  his  youth,  and 
for  which  God  had  so  often  and  so  wonderfully  declared  him- 
self. 

The  Duke  of  Monmouth  had  been  making  his  uncle,  the 
Duke  of  York,  very  jealous,  by  going  about  the  country  in  a 
royal  sort  of  way,  plaj'ing  at  the  people's  games,  becoming 
god-father  to  their  children,  and  even  touching  for  the  King's 
evil,  or  stroking  the  faces  of  the  sick  to  cure  them  —  though, 
for  the  matter  of  that,  I  should  say  he  did  them  about  as  much 
good  as  any  crowned  king  could  have  done.     His  father  had 
got  him  to  write  a  letter,  confessing  his  having  had  a  part  in  the 
conspiracy,  for  which  Lord  Russell  had  been  beheaded ;  but 
he  was  ever  a  weak  man,  and  as  soon  as  he  had  written  it, 
he  was  ashamed  of  it  and  got  it  back  again.     For  this,  he  was 
banished  to  the  Netherlands ;  but  he  soon  returned  and  had 
an  interview  with  his  father,  unknown  to  his  uncle.     It  would 
seem   that  he  was  coming  into  the  Meny  Monarch's  favor 
again,  and  that  the  Duke  of  York  was  sliding  out  of  it,  when 
Death  appeared  to  the  merry  galleries  at  Whitehall,  and  as- 
tonished the  debauched  lords  and  gentlemen,  and  the  shame- 
less ladies,  very  considerably. 

On  Monday,  the  second  of  February,  one  thousand  six 
hundred  and  eighty-five,  the  meny  pensioner  and  servant  of 
the  King  of  France  fell  down  in  a  fit  of  apoplex}\  B}'  the 
Wednesday  his  case  was  hopeless,  and  on  the  Thursda}"  he  was 
told  so.  As  he  made  a  difficulty  about  taking  the  sacrament 
from  the  Protestant  Bishop  of  Bath,  the  Duke  of  York  got 
all  who  were  present  away  from  the  bed,  and  asked  his 
brother,  in  a  whisper,  if  he  should  send  for  a  Catholic  priest? 
The  King  replied,  "For  God's  sake,  brother,  do!"  The 
Duke  smuggled  in,  up  the  back  stairs,  disguised  in  a  wig 
and  gown,  a  priest  named  HUDDLESTON,  who  had  saved  the 


452  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

King's  life  after  the  battle  of  "Worcester:  telling  him  that 
this  worthy  man  in  the  wig  had  once  saved  his  body,  and 
was  now  come  to  save  his  soul. 

The  Merry  Monarch  lived  through  that  night,  and  died 
before  noon  on  the  next  day,  which  was  Friday,  the  sixth. 
Two  of  the  last  things  he  said  were  of  a  human  sort,  and 
your  remembrance  will  give  him  the  full  benefit  of  them. 
When  the  Queen  sent  to  say  she  was  too  unwell  to  attend 
him  and  to  ask  his  pardon,  he  said,  "Alas!  poor  woman, 
she  beg  my  pardon !  I  beg  hers  with  all  my  heart.  Take 
back  that  answer  to  her."  And  he  also  said,  in  reference  to 
Nell  Gw3~n,  "  Do  not  let  poor  Nelly  starve." 

He  died  in  the  fifty-fifth  year  of  his  age,  and  the  twenty- 
fifth  of  his  reign. 


DEATH  OF  CHARLES  11. 


JAMES  THE  SECOND.  453 


CHAPTER    XXXVI. 

ENGLAND    UNDER   JAMES   THE   SECOND. 

KING  JAMES  THE  SECOND  was  a  man  so  very  disagreea- 
ble, that  even  the  best  of  historians  has  favored  his  brother 
Charles,  as  becoming,  by  comparison,  quite  a  pleasant  char- 
acter. The  one  object  of  his  short  reign  was  to  re-establish 
the  Catholic  religion  in  England ;  and  this  he  doggedly  pur- 
sued with  such  a  stupid  obstinacy,  that  his  career  very  soon 
came  to  a  close. 

The  first  thing  he  did,  was,  to  assure  his  council  that  he 
would  make  it  his  endeavor  to  preserve  the  Government,  both 
in  Church  and  State,  as  it  was  by  law  established  ;  and  that 
he  would  always  take  care  to  defend  and  support  the  Church. 
Great  public  acclamations  were  raised  over  this  fair  speech, 
and  a  great  deal  was  said,  from  the  pulpits  and  elsewhere, 
about  the  word  of  a  King  which  was  never  broken,  b}r  credu- 
lous people  who  little  supposed  that  he  had  formed  a  secret 
council  for  Catholic  affairs,  of  which  a  mischievous  Jesuit, 
called  FATHER  PETRE,  was  one  of  the  chief  members.     With 
tears  of  joy  in  his  eyes,  he  received,  as  the  beginning  of  his 
pension  from  the  King  of  France,  five  hundred  thousand 
livres ;  yet,  with  a  mixture  of  meanness  and  arrogance  that 
belonged  to  his  contemptible  character,  he  was  always  jealous 
of  making  some  show  of  being  independent  of  the  King  of 
France,  while  he  pocketed  his  money.    As  —  notwithstanding 
his  publishing  two  papers  in  favor  of  Popery  (and  not  likely 
to  do  it  much  service,  I  should  think)  written  by  the  King, 
his  brother,  and  found  in  his  strong-box ;  and  his  open  dis- 
play of  himself  attending  mass  —  the  Parliament  was  very 


454  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

obsequious,  and  granted  him  a  large  sum  of  money,  he  began 
his  reign  with  a  belief  that  he  could  do  what  he  pleased,  and 
with  a  determination  to  do  it. 

Before  we  proceed  to  its  principal  events,  let  us  dispose  of 
Titus  Gates.  He  was  tried  for  perjury,  a  fortnight  after  the 
coronation,  and  besides  being  very  heavily  fined,  was  sen- 
tenced to  stand  twice  in  the  pillory,  to  be  whipped  from  Aid- 
gate  to  Newgate  one  day,  and  from  Newgate  to  Tyburn  two 
days  afterwards,  and  to  stand  in  the  pillory  five  times  a  year 
as  long  as  he  lived.  This  fearful  sentence  was  actually  in- 
flicted on  the  rascal.  Being  unable  to  stand  after  his  first 
flogging,  he  was  dragged  on  a  sledge  from  Newgate  to  Ty- 
burn, and  flogged  as  he  was  drawn  along.  He  was  so  strong 
a  villain  that  he  did  not  die  under  the  torture,  but  lived  to  be 
afterwards  pardoned  and  rewarded,  though  not  to  be  ever 
believed  in  any  more.  Dangerfield,  the  only  other  one  of 
that  crew  left  alive,  was  not  so  fortunate.  He  was  almost 
killed  by  a  whipping  from  Newgate  to  Tyburn,  and,  as  if  that 
were  not  punishment  enough,  a  ferocious  barrister  of  Gray's 
Inn  gave  him  a  poke  in  the  eye  with  his  cane,  which  caused 
his  death ;  for  which  the  ferocious  barrister  was  deservedly 
tried  and  executed. 

As  soon  as  James  was  on  the  throne,  Argyle  and  Mon- 
mouth  went  from  Brussels  to  Rotterdam,  and  attended  a 
meeting  of  Scottish  exiles  held  there,  to  concert  measures 
for  a  rising  in  England.  It  was  agreed  that  Argyle  should 
effect  a  landing  in  Scotland,  and  Monmouth  in  England  ;  and 
that  two  Englishmen  should  be  sent  with  Argyle  to  be  in 
his  confidence,  and  two  Scotchmen  with  the  Duke  of  Mon- 
mouth. 

Argyle  was  the  first  to  act  upon  this  contract.  But,  two 
of  his  men  being  taken  prisoners  at  the  Orkney  Islands,  the 
Government  became  aware  of  his  intention,  and  was  able 
to  act  against  him  with  such  vigor  as  to  prevent  his  raising 
more  than  two  or  three  thousand  Highlanders,  although  he 
sent  a  fiery  cross,  by  trusty  messengers,  from  clan  to  clan 


JAMES  THE  SECOND.  455 

and  from  glen  to  "glen,  as  the  custom  then  was  when  those 
wild  people  were  to  be  excited  by  their  chiefs.     As  he  was 
moving  towards  Glasgow  with  his  small  force,  he  was  be- 
trayed by  some  of  his  followers,  taken,  and  carried,  with  his 
hands  tied  behind  his  back,  to  his  old  prison  in  Edinburgh 
Castle.    James  ordered  him  to  be  executed,  on  his  old  shame- 
fully unjust  sentence,  within  three  days ;  and  he  appears  to 
have  been  anxious  that  his  legs  should  have  been  pounded 
with  his  old  favorite  the  boot.     However,  the  boot  was  not 
applied  ;  he  was  simply  beheaded,  and  his  head  was  set  upon 
the  top  of  Edinburgh  Jail.     One  of  those  Englishmen  who 
had  been  assigned  to  him  was  that  old  soldier  Rumbold,  the 
master  of  the  Rye  House.      He  was  sorely  wounded,   and 
within  a  week  after  Argyle  had  suffered  with  great  courage, 
was  brought  up  for  trial,  lest  he  should  die  and  disappoint 
the  King.     He,  too,  was  executed,  after  defending  himself 
with  great  spirit,  and  saying  that  he  did  not  believe  that  God 
had  made  the  greater  part  of  mankind  to  carry  saddles  on 
their  backs  and  bridles  in  their  mouths,  and  to  be  ridden  by 
a  few,  booted  and  spurred  for  the  purpose  —  in  which  I  thor- 
oughly agree  with  Rumbold. 

The  Duke  of  Monmouth,  partly  through  being  detained 
and  partlj'  through  idling  his  time  away,  was  five  or  six  weeks 
behind  his  friend  when  he  landed  at  Lyme,  in  Dorset :  having 
at  his  right  hand  an  unluck}-  nobleman  called  LORD  GKEY  OF 
WERK,  who  of  himself  would  have  ruined  a  far  more  promis- 
ing expedition.     He  immediately  set  up  his  standard  in  the 
market-place,  and  proclaimed  the  King  a  tyrant,  and  a  Popish 
usurper,  and  I  know  not  what  else ;  charging  him  not  only 
with  what  he  had  done,  which  was  bad  enough,  but  with  what 
neither  he  nor  anybody  else  had  done,  such  as  setting  fire  to 
London,  and  poisoning  the  late  King.     Raising  some  four 
thousand  men  by  these  means,  he  marched  on  to  Taunton, 
where  there  were    many  Protestant    dissenters    who  were 
strongly  opposed  to  the  Catholics.     Here,  both  the  rich  and 
poor  turned  out  to  receive  him,  ladies  waved  a  welcome  to 


456  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

him  from  all  the  windows  as  he  passed  along  the  streets, 
flowers  were  strewn  in  his  way,  and  every  compliment  and 
honor  that  could  be  devised  was  showered  upon  him.  Among 
the  rest,  twenty  young  ladies  came  forward,  in  their  best 
clothes,  and  in  their  brightest  beauty,  and  gave  him  a  Bible 
ornamented  with  their  own  fair  hands,  together  with  other 
presents. 

Encouraged  by  this  homage,  he  proclaimed  himself  King, 
and  went  on  to  Bridgewater.  But,  here  the  Government 
troops,  under  the  EARL  OF  FEVERSHAM,  were  close  at  hand ; 
and  he  was  so  dispirited  at  finding  that  he  made  but  few 
powerful  friends  after  all,  that  it  was  a  question  whether  he 
should  disband  his  army  and  endeavor  to  escape.  It  was 
resolved,  at  the  instance  of  that  unlucky  Lord  Grey,  to  make 
a  night  attack  on  the  King's  army,  as  it  lay  encamped  on 
the  edge  of  a  morass  called  Sedgemoor.  The  horsemen  were 
commanded  by  the  same  unlucky  lord,  who  was  not  a  brave 
man.  He  gave  up  the  battle  almost  at  the  first  obstacle  — 
which  was  a  deep  drain ;  and  although  the  poor  county-- 
men, who  had  turned  out  for  Monmouth,  fought  bravely  with 
scythes,  poles,  pitchforks,  and  such  poor  weapons  as  they 
had,  they  were  soon  dispersed  by  the  trained  soldiers,  and 
fled  in  all  directions.  When  the  Duke  of  Monmouth  himseli 
fled,  was  not  known  in  the  confusion  ;  but  the  unlucky  Lord 
Grey  was  taken  earl}*  next  da}*,  and  then  another  of  the  part}* 
was  taken,  who  confessed  that  he  had  parted  from  the  Duke 
only  four  hours  before.  Strict  search  being  made,  he  was 
found  disguised  as  a  peasant,  hidden  in  a  ditch  under  fern 
and  nettles,  with  a  few  peas  in  his  pocket  which  he  had  gath- 
ered in  the  fields  to  eat.  The  only  other  articles  he  had  upon 
him  were  a  few  papers  and  little  books :  one  of  the  latter 
being  a  strange  jumble,  in  his  own  writing,  of  charms,  songs, 
recipes,  and  prayers.  He  was  completely  broken.  He  wrote 
a  miserable  letter  to  the  King,  beseeching  and  entreating  to 
be  allowed  to  see  him.  When  he  was  taken  to  London,  and 
conveyed  bound  into  the  King's  presence,  he  crawled  to  him 


JAMES   THE   SECOND.  457 

on  his  knees,  and  made  a  most  degrading  exhibition.  Aa 
James  never  forgave  or  relented  towards  anybody,  he  was 
not  likely  to  soften  towards  the  issuer  of  the  Lyme  proclama- 
tion, so  he  told  the  suppliant  to  prepare  for  death. 

On  the  fifteenth  of  July,  one  thousand  six  hundred  and 
eighty-five,  this  unfortunate  favorite  of  the  people  was  brought 
out  to  die  on  Tower  Hill.  The  crowd  was  immense,  and  the 
tops  of  all  the  houses  were  covered  with  gazers.  He  had 
seen  his  wife,  the  daughter  of  the  Duke  of  Buccleuch,  in  the 
Tower,  and  had  talked  much  of  a  lady  whom  he  loved  far 
better  —  the  LADY  HARRIET  WENTWORTH  —  who  was  one  of 
the  last  persons  he  remembered  in  this  life.  Before  laying 
down  his  head  upon  the  block  he  felt  the  edge  of  the  axe, 
and  told  the  executioner  that  he  feared  it  was  not  sharp 
enough,  and  that  the  axe  was  not  heavy  enough.  On  the 
executioner  replying  that  it  was  of  the  proper  kind,  the  Duke 
said,  "I  pray  you  have  a  care,  and  do  not  use  me  so  awk- 
wardly as  you  used  my  Lord  Russell."  The  executioner, 
made  nervous  by  this,  and  trembling,  struck  once  and  merely 
gashed  him  in  the  neck.  Upon  this,  the  Duke  of  Monmouth 
raised  his  head  and  looked  the  man  reproachfully  in  the  face. 
Then  he  struck  twice,  and  then  thrice,  and  then  threw  down 
the  axe,  and  cried  out  in  a  voice  of  horror  that  he  could  not 
finish  that  work.  The  sheriffs,  however,  threatening  him 
with  what  should  be  done  to  himself  if  he  did  not,  he  took  it 
up  again  and  struck  a  fourth  time  and  a  fifth  time.  Then 
the  wretched  head  at  last  fell  off,  and  James,  Duke  of  Mon- 
mouth, was  dead,  in  the  thirty-sixth  year  of  his  age.  He 
was  a  showy  graceful  man,  with  many  popular  qualities,  and 
had  found  much  favor  in  the  open  hearts  of  the  English. 

The  atrocities,  committed  by  the  Government,  which  fol- 
lowed this  Monmouth  rebellion,  form  the  blackest  and  most 
lamentable  page  in  English  history.  The  poor  peasants, 
having  been  dispersed  with  great  loss,  and  their  leaders  hav- 
ing been  taken,  one  would  think  that  the  implacable  King 
mio-ht  have  been  satisfied.  But  no ;  he  let  loose  upon  them, 


458  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

among  other  intolerable  monsters,  a  COLONEL  KIRK,  \vho 
had  served  against  the  Moors,  and  whose  soldiers  —  called 
by  the  people  Kirk's  lambs,  because  they  bore  a  lamb  upon 
their  flag,  as  the  emblem  of  Christianit}*  —  were  worthy  of 
their  leader.  The  atrocities  committed  by  these  demons  in 
human  shape  are  far  too  horrible  to  be  related  here.  It  is 
enough  to  say,  that  besides  most  ruthlessly  murdering  and 
robbing  them,  and  ruining  them  by  making  them  bu}-  their 
pardons  at  the  price  of  all  they  possessed,  it  was  one  of  Kirk's 
favorite  amusements,  as  he  and  his  officers  sat  drinking  after 
dinner,  and  toasting  the  King,  to  have  batches  of  prisoners 
hanged  outside  the  windows  for  the  company's  diversion ; 
and  that  when  their  feet  quivered  in  the  convulsions  of  death,  . 
he  used  to  swear  that  they  should  have  music  to  their  danc- 
ing, and  would  order  the  drums  to  beat  and  the  trumpets  to 
play.  The  detestable  King  informed  him,  as  an  acknowledg- 
ment of  these  services,  that  he  was  "very  well  satisfied  with 
his  proceedings."  But  the  King's  great  delight  was  in  the 
proceedings  of  Jeffreys,  now  a  peer,  who  went  down  into  the 
west,  with  four  other  judges,  to  try  persons  accused  of  having 
had  any  share  in  the  rebellion.  The  King  pleasantly  called 
this  "  Jeffreys' s  campaign."  The  people  down  in  that  part 
of  the  country  remember  it  to  this  day  as  the  Bloody  Assize. 
It  began  at  Winchester,  where  a  poor  deaf  old  lad}',  MRS. 
ALICIA  LISLE,  the  widow  of  one  of  the  judges  of  Charles 
the  First  (who  had  been  murdered  abroad  by  some  Royalist 
assassins),  was  charged  with  having  given  shelter  in  her 
house  to  two  fugitives  from  Sedgemoor.  Three  times  the 
jury  refused  to  find  her  guilty,  until  Jeffreys  bullied  and 
frightened  them  into  that  false  verdict.  When  he  had  ex- 
torted it  from  them,  he  said,  "  Gentlemen,  if  I  had  been  one 
of  you,  and  she  had  been  my  own  mother,  I  would  have 
found  her  guilt}' ; "  —  as  I  dare  say  he  would.  He  sentenced 
her  to  be  burned  alive,  that  very  afternoon.  The  clerg}*  of 
the  cathedral  and  some  others  interfered  in  her  favor,  and 
she  was  beheaded  within  a  week.  As  a  high  mark  of  his 


JAMES  THE  SECOND.  459 

approbation,  the  King  made  Jeffreys  Lord  Chancellor ;  and 
he  then  went  on  to  Dorchester,  to  Exeter,  to  Taunton,  and 
to  Wells.  It  is  astonishing,  when  we  read  of  the  enormous 
injustice  and  barbarity  of  this  beast,  to  know  that  no  one 
struck  him  dead  on  the  judgment-seat.  It  was  enough  for 
any  man  or  woman  to  be  accused  by  an  enemy,  before 
Jeffreys,  to  be  found  guilty  of  high  treason.  One  man  who 
pleaded  not  guilty,  he  ordered  to  be  taken  out  of  court  upon 
the  instant,  and  hanged  ;  and  this  so  terrified  the  prisoners 
in  general  that  they  mostly  pleaded  guilty  at  once.  At  Dor- 
chester alone,  in  the  course  of  a  few  days,  Jeffreys  hanged 
eighty  people  ;  besides  whipping,  transporting,  imprisoning, 
and  selling  as  slaves,  great  numbers.  He  executed,  in  all, 
two  hundred  and  fifty,  or  three  hundred. 

These  executions  took  place,  among  the  neighbors  and 
friends  of  the  sentenced,  in  thirty-six  towns  and  villages. 
Their  bodies  were  mangled,  steeped  in  caldrons  of  boiling 
pitch  and  tar,  and  hung  up  by  the  roadsides,  in  the  streets, 
over  the  very  churches.  The  sight  and  smell  of  heads  and 
limbs,  the  hissing  and  bubbling  of  the  infernal  caldrons,  and 
the  tears  and  terrors  of  the  people,  were  dreadful  beyond  all 
description.  One  rustic,  who  was  forced  to  steep  the  remains 
in  the  black  pot,  was  ever  afterwards  called  "  Tom  Boilman." 
The  hangman  has  ever  since  been  called  Jack  Ketch,  because 
a  man  of  that  name  went  hanging  and  hanging,  all  day  long, 
in  the  train  of  Jeffreys.  You  will  hear  much  of  the  horrors 
of  the  great  French  Revolution.  Many  and  terrible  they 
were,  there  is  no  doubt;  but  I  know  of  nothing  worse, 
done  by  the  maddened  people  of  France  in  that  awful 
time,  than  was  done  by  the  highest  judge  in  England,  with 
the  express  approval  of  the  King  of  England,  in  The  Bloody 
Assize. 

Nor  was  even  this  all.  Jeffreys  was  as  fond  of  money  for 
himself  as  of  misery  for  others,  and  he  sold  pardons  whole- 
sale to  fill  his  pockets.  The  King  ordered,  at  one  time,  a 
thousand  prisoners  to  be  given  to  certain  of  his  favorites,  in 


460  A   CHILD'S   HISTOKY  OF  ENGLAND. 

order  that  the}*  might  bargain  with  them  for  their  pardons. 
The  young  ladies  of  Taunton  who  had  presented  the  Bible, 
were  bestowed  upon  the  maids  of  honor  at  court ;  and  those 
precious  ladies  made  very  hard  bargains  with  them  indeed. 
When  The  Blood}'  Assize  was  at  its  most  dismal  height,  the 
King  was  diverting  himself  with  horse-races  in  the  very  place 
where  Mrs.  Lisle  had  been  executed.  When  Jeffre}*s  had 
done  his  worst,  and  came  home  again,  he  was  particularly 
complimented  in  the  Royal  Gazette ;  and  when  the  King 
heard  that  through  drunkenness  and  raging  he  was  very  ill, 
his  odious  Majesty  remarked  that  such  another  man  could 
not  easily  be  found  in  England.  Besides  all  this,  a  former 
sheriff  of  London,  named  CORNISH,  was  hanged  within  sight 
of  his  own  house,  after  an  abominably  conducted  trial,  for 
having  had  a  share  in  the  Rye  House  Plot,  on  evidence 
given  by  Rumsey,  which  that  villain  was  obliged  to  confess 
was  directly  opposed  to  the  evidence  he  had  given  on  the 
trial  of  Lord  Russell.  And  on  the  very  same  da}r,  a  worthy 
widow,  named  ELIZABETH  GAUNT,  was  burned  alive  at  T}'- 
burn,  for  having  sheltered  a  wretch  who  himself  gave  evidence 
against  her.  She  settled  the  fuel  about  herself  with  her  own 
hands,  so  that  the  flames  should  reach  her  quickly ;  and 
nobly  said,  with  her  last  breath,  that  she  had  obeyed  the 
sacred  command  of  God,  to  give  refuge  to  the  outcast,  and 
not  to  betray  the  wanderer. 

After  all  this  hanging,  beheading,  burning,  boiling,  muti- 
lating, exposing,  robbing,  transporting,  and  selling  into  sla- 
ver}', of  his  unhappy  subjects,  the  King  not  unnaturally 
thought  that  he  could  do  whatever  he  would.  So,  he  went 
to  work  to  change  the  religion  of  the  country  with  all  possi- 
ble speed  ;  and  what  he  did  was  this. 

He  first  of  all  tried  to  get  rid  of  what  was  called  the  Test 
Act  —  which  prevented  the  Catholics  from  holding  public  em- 
ployments —  by  his  own  power  of  dispensing  with  the  pen- 
alties. He  tried  it  in  one  case,  and,  eleven  of  the  twelve 
judges  deciding  in  his  favor,  he  exercised  it  in  three  others, 


JAMES  THE   SECOND.  4G1 

being  those  of  three  dignitaries  of  University  College,  Ox- 
ford, who  had  become  Papists,  and  whom  he  kept  in  their 
places  and  sanctioned.  He  revived  the  hated  Ecclesiastical 
Commission,  to  get  rid  of  COMPTON,  Bishop  of  London,  who 
manfully  opposed  him.  He  solicited  the  Pope  to  favor  Eng- 
land with  an  ambassador,  which  the  Pope  (who  was  a  sensi- 
ble man  then)  rather  unwillingly  did.  He  flourished  Father 
Petre  before  the  eyes  of  the  people  on  all  possible  occasions. 
He  favored  the  establishment  of  convents  in  several  parts  of 
London.  He  was  delighted  to  have  the  streets,  and  even 
the  court  itself,  filled  with  Monks  and  Friars  in  the  habits 
of  their  orders.  He  constantly  endeavored  to  make  Catho- 
lics of  the  Protestants  about  him.  He  held  private  inter- 
views, which  he  called  "  closetings,"  with  those  Members  of 
Parliament  who  held  offices,  to  persuade  them  to  consent  to 
the  design  he  had  in  view.  When  they  did  not  consent, 
they  were  removed,  or  resigned  of  themselves,  and  their 
places  were  given  to  Catholics.  He  displaced  Protestant 
officers  from  the  army,  by  every  means  in  his  power,  and 
got  Catholics  into  their  places  too.  He  tried  the  same  thing 
with  the  corporations,  and  also  (though  not  so  successfully) 
with  the  Lord  Lieutenants  of  counties.  To  terrify  the  peo- 
ple into  the  endurance  of  all  these  measures,  he  kept  an  army 
of  fifteen  thousand  men  encamped  on  Hounslow  Heath, 
where  mass  was  openly  performed  in  the  General's  tent,  and 
where  priests  went  among  the  soldiers  endeavoring  to  per- 
suade them  to  become  Catholics.  For  circulating  a  paper 
among  those  men  advising  them  to  be  true  to  their  religion, 
a  Protestant  clergyman,  named  JOHNSON,  the  chaplain  of  the 
late  Lord  Russell,  was  actually  sentenced  to  stand  three 
times  in  the  pillory,  and  was  actually  whipped  from  Newgate 
to  Tyburn.  He  dismissed  his  own  brother-in-law  from  his 
Council  because 'he  was  a  Protestant,  and  made  a  Privy 
Councillor  of  the  before-mentioned  Father  Petre.  He  handed 
Ireland  over  to  RICHARD  TALBOT,  EARL  OF  TYRCONNELL,  a 
worthless,  dissolute  knave,  who  played  the  same  game  there 


462  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

for  his  master,  and  who  played  the  deeper  game  for  himself 
of  one  day  putting  it  under  the  protection  of  the  French 
King.  In  going  to  these  extremities,  ever}7  man  of  sense 
and  judgment  among  the  Catholics,  from  the  Pope  to  a 
porter,  knew  that  the  King  was  a  mere  bigoted  fool,  who 
would  undo  himself  and  the  cause  he  sought  to  advance ; 
but  he  was  deaf  to  all  reason,  and,  happily  for  England 
ever  afterwards,  went  tumbling  off  his  throne  in  his  own 
blind  way. 

A  spirit  began  to  arise  in  the  country,  which  the  besotted 
blunderer  little  expected.  He  first  found  it  out  in  the  Uni- 
versity of  Cambridge.  Having  made  a  Catholic,  a  dean,  at 
Oxford,  without  any  opposition,  he  tried  to  make  a  monk  a 
master  of  arts  at  Cambridge :  which  attempt  the  University 
resisted,  and  defeated  him.  He  then  went  back  to  his  favor- 
ite Oxford.  On  the  death  of  the  President  of  Magdalen  Col- 
lege, he  commanded  that  there  should  be  elected  to  succeed 
him,  one  MR.  ANTHONY  FARMER,  whose  only  recommenda- 
tion was,  that  he  was  of  the  King's  religion.  The  Univer- 
sity plucked  up  courage  at  last,  and  refused.  The  King 
substituted  another  man,  and  it  still  refused,  resolving  to 
stand  by  its  own  election  of  a  MR.  HOUGH.  The  dull  tyrant, 
upon  this,  punished  Mr.  Hough,  and  five-and-twenty  more, 
by  causing  them  to  be  expelled  and  declared  incapable 
of  holding  any  church  preferment ;  then  he  proceeded  to 
what  he  supposed  to  be  his  highest  step,  but  to  what  was,  in 
fact,  his  last  plunge  head-foremost  in  his  tumble  off  his 
throne. 

He  had  issued  a  declaration  that  there  should  be  no  reli- 
gious tests  or  penal  laws,  in  order  to  let  in  the  Catholics  more 
easily ;  but  the  Protestant  dissenters,  unmindful  of  them- 
selves, had  gallantly  joined  the  regular  church  in  opposing  it 
tooth  and  nail.  The  King  and  Father  Petre  now  resolved  to 
have  this  read,  on  a  certain  Sunday,  in  all  the  churches,  and 
to  order  it  to  be  circulated  for  that  purpose  by  the  bishops. 
The  latter  took  counsel  with  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury, 


JAMES  THE  SECOND.  463 

who  was  in  disgrace  ;  and  they  resolved  that  the  declaration 
should  not  be  read,  and  that  they  would  petition  the  King 
against  it.  The  Archbishop  himself  wrote  out  the  petition, 
and  six  bishops  went  into  the  King's  bedchamber  the  same 
night  to  present  it,  to  his  infinite  astonishment.  Next  day 
was  the  Sunday  fixed  for  the  reading,  and  it  was  only  read 
by  two  hundred  clergymen  out  of  ten  thousand.  The  King 
resolved  against  all  advice  to  prosecute  the  bishops  in  the 
Court  of  King's  Bench,  and  within  three  weeks  they  were 
summoned  before  the  Privy  Council,  and  committed  to  the 
Tower.  As  the  six  bishops  were  taken  to  that  dismal  place, 
by  water,  the  people  who  were  assembled  in  immense  num- 
bers fell  upon  their  knees,  and  wept  for  them,  and  praj'ed  for 
them.  When  they  got  to  the  Tower,  the  officers  and  soldiers 
on  guard  besought  them  for  their  blessing.  While  they  were 
confined  there,  the  soldiers  every  day  drank  to  their  release 
with  loud  shouts.  When  they  were  brought  up  to  the  Court 
of  King's  Bench  for  their  trial,  which  the  Attorney-General 
said  was  for  the  high  offence  of  censuring  the  Government, 
and  giving  their  opinion  about  affairs  of  state,  they  were  at- 
tended by  similar  multitudes,  and  surrounded  by  a  throng  of 
noblemen  and  gentlemen.  When  the  jury  went  out  at  seven 
o'clock  at  night  to  consider  of  their  verdict,  everybody  (ex- 
cept the  King)  knew  that  they  would  rather  starve  than  yield 
to  the  King's  brewer,  who  was  one  of  them,  and  wanted  a 
verdict  for  his  customer.  When  they  came  into  court  next 
morning,  after  resisting  the  brewer  all  night,  and  gave  a  ver- 
dict of  not  guilty,  such  a  shout  rose  up  in  Westminster  Hall 
as  it  had  never  heard  before ;  and  it  was  passed  on  among 
the  people  away  to  Temple  Bar,  and  away  again  to  the  Tower. 
It  did  not  pass  only  to  the  east,  but  passed  to  the  west  too, 
until  it  reached  the  camp  at  Hounslow,  where  the  fifteen 
thousand  soldiers  took  it  up  and  echoed  it.  And  still,  when 
the  dull  King,  who  was  then  with  Lord  Feversham,  heard 
the  mighty  roar,  asked  in  alarm  what  it  was,  and  was  told 
that  it°was  "nothing  but  the  acquittal  of  the  bishops,"  he 


464  A  CHILD'S   HISTOKY  OF  ENGLAND. 

said,  in  his  dogged  way,  "Call  you  that  nothing?     It  is  so 
much  the  worse  for  them." 

Between  the  petition  and  the  trial,  the  Queen  had  given 
birth  to  a  son,  which  Father  Petre  rather  thought  was  owing 
to  Saint  Winifred.  But  I  doubt  if  Saint  Winifred  had 
much  to  do  with  it  as  the  King's  friend,  inasmuch  as  the 
entirely  new  prospect  of  a  Catholic  successor  (for  both  the 
King's  daughters  were  Protestants)  determined  the  EARLS  OP 
SHREWSBURY,  DANBY,  and  DEVONSHIRE,  LORD  LUMLEY,  the 
BISHOP  OF  LONDON,  ADMIRAL  RUSSELL,  and  COLONEL  SIDNEY, 
to  invite  the  Prince  of  Orange  over  to  England.  The  Royal 
Mole,  seeing  his  danger  at  last,  made,  in  his  fright,  many 
concessions,  besides  raising  an  army  of  fort}-  thousand  men  ; 
but  the  Prince  of  Orange  was  not  a  man  for  James  the  Second 
to  cope  with.  His  preparations  were  extraordinarily  vigorous, 
and  his  mind  was  resolved. 

For  a  fortnight  after  the  Prince  was  ready  to  sail  for 
England,  a  great  wind  from  the  west  prevented  the  departure 
of  his  fleet.  Even  when  the  wind  lulled,  and  it  did  sail,  it 
was  dispersed  by  a  storm,  and  was  obliged  to  put  back  to 
refit.  At  last,  on  the  first  of  November,  one  thousand  six 
hundred  and  eighty-eight,  the  Protestant  east  wind,  as  it  was 
long  called,  began  to  blow ;  and  on  the  third,  the  people  of 
Dover  and  the  people  of  Calais  saw  a  fleet  twenty  miles  long 
sailing  gallantly  by,  between  the  two  places.  On  Monday, 
the  fifth,  it  anchored  at  Torba}T  in  Devonshire,  and  the  Prince, 
with  a  splendid  retinue  of  officers  and  men,  marched  into 
Exeter.  But  the  people  in  that  western  part  of  the  country 
had  suffered  so  much  in  The  Bloody  Assize,  that  the}-  had 
lost  heart.  Few  people  joined  him ;  and  he  began  to  think 
of  returning,  and  publishing  the  invitation  he  had  received 
from  those  lords,  as  his  justification  for  having  come  at  all. 
At  this  crisis,  some  of  the  gentiy  joined  him ;  the  Royal 
army  began  to  falter ;  an  engagement  was  signed,  by  which 
all  who  set  their  hand  to  it  declared  that  the}"  would  support 
one  another  in  defence  of  the  laws  and  liberties  of  the  three 


JAMES  THE  SECOND.  465 

Kingdoms,  of  the  Protestant  religion,  and  of  the  Prince  of 
Orange.  From  that  time,  the  cause  received  no  check ;  the 
greatest  towns  in  England  began,  one  after  another,  to  de- 
clare for  the  Prince ;  and  he  knew  that  it  was  all  safe  with 
him  when  the  University  of  Oxford  offered  to  melt  down  its 
plate,  if  he  wanted  any  money. 

By  this  time  the  king  was  running  about  in  a  pitiable  way, 
touching  people  for  the  King's  evil  in  one  place,  reviewing 
his  troops  in  another,  and  bleeding  from  the  nose  in  a  third. 
The  young  Prince  was  sent  to  Portsmouth,  Father  Petre  went 
off  like  a  shot  to  France,  and  there  was  a  general  and  swift 
dispersal  of  all  the  priests  and  friars.  One  after  another, 
the  King's  most  important  officers  and  friends  deserted  him 
and  went  over  to  the  Prince.  In  the  night,  his  daughter 
Anne  fled  from  Whitehall  Palace  ;  and  the  Bishop  of  London, 
who  had  once  been  a  soldier,  rode  before  her  with  a  drawn 
sword  in  his  hand,  and  pistols  at  his  saddle.  ' '  God  help 
me,"  cried  the  miserable  King:  "  nry  very  children  have  for- 
saken me  !  "  In  his  wildness,  after  debating  with  such  lords 
as  were  in  London,  whether  he  should  or  should  not  call  a 
Parliament,  and  after  naming  three  of  them  to  negotiate 
with  the  Prince,  he  resolved  to  fly  to  France.  He  had 
the  little  Prince  of  Wales  brought  back  from  Portsmouth ; 
and  the  child  and  the  Queen  crossed  the  river  to  Lam- 
beth in  an  open  boat,  on  a  miserable  wet  night,  and  got 
safely  away.  This  was  on  the  night  of  the  ninth  of  De- 
cember. 

At  one  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  eleventh,  the  King, 
who  had,  in  the  meantime,  received  a  letter  from  the  Prince 
of  Orange,  stating  his  objects,  got  out  of  bed,  told  LORD 
NORTHUMBERLAND  who  lay  in  his  room,  not  to  open  the  door 
until  the  usual  hour  in  the  morning,  and  went  down  the  back 
stairs  (the  same,  I  suppose,  by  which  the  priest  in  the  wig 
and  gown  had  come  up  to  his  brother)  and  crossed  the  river 
in  a  small  boat :  sinking  the  great  seal  of  England  by  the 
way.  Horses  having  been  provided,  he  rode,  accompanied 

30 


466  A   CHILD'S   HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

by  SIR  EDWARD  HALES,  to  Feversham,  where  he  embarked 
in  a  Custom  House  Hoy.  The  master  of  this  Hoy,  wanting 
more  ballast,  ran  into  the  Isle  of  Sheppy  to  get  it,  where  the 
fishermen  and  smugglers  crowded  about  the  boat,  and  in- 
formed the  King  of  their  suspicions  that  he  was  a  "hatchet- 
faced  Jesuit.  "  As  they  took  his  money  and  would  not  let 
him  go,  he  told  them  who  he  was,  and  that  the  Prince  of 
Orange  wanted  to  take  his  life ;  and  he  began  to  scream  for 
a  boat  —  and  then  to  cry,  because  he  had  lost  a  piece  of 
wood  on  his  ride  which  he  called  a  fragment  of  Our  Saviour's 
cross.  He  put  himself  into  the  hands  ot  the  Lord  Lieuten- 
ant of  the  county,  and  his  detention  was  made  known  to 
the  Prince  of  Orange  at  Windsor  —  who,  only  wanting  to  get 
rid  of  him,  and  not  caring  where  he  went,  so  that  he  went 
away,  was  very  much  disconcerted  that  they  did  not  let 
him  go.  However,  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  have  him 
brought  back,  with  some  state  in  the  way  of  Life  Guards,  to 
Whitehall.  And  as  soon  as  he  got  there,  in  his  infatuation, 
he  heard  mass,  and  set  a  Jesuit  to  say  grace  at  his  public 
dinner. 

The  people  had  been  thrown  into  the  strangest  state  of 
confusion  by  his  flight,  and  had  taken  it  into  their  heads  that 
the  Irish  part  of  the  army  were  going  to  murder  the  Protes- 
tants. Therefore,  they  set  the  bells  a  ringing,  and  lighted 
watch-fires,  and  burned  Catholic  Chapels,  and  looked  about 
in  all  directions  for  Father  Petre  and  the  Jesuits,  while  the 
Pope's  ambassador  was  running  away  in  the  dress  of  a  foot- 
man. They  found  no  Jesuits ;  but  a  man,  who  had  once 
been  a  frightened  witness  before  Jeffreys  in  court,  saw  a 
swollen  drunken  face  looking  through  a  window  down  at 
Wapping,  which  he  well  remembered.  The  face  was  in  a 
sailor's  dress,  but  he  knew  it  to  be  the  face  of  that  ac- 
cursed Judge,  and  he  seized  him.  The  people,  to  their 
lasting  honor,  did  not  tear  him  to  pieces.  After  knock- 
ing him  about  a  little,  they  took  him,  in  the  basest  agonies 
of  terror,  to  the  Lord  Mayor,  who  sent  him,  at  his  own 


JAMES  THE  SECOND.  467 

shrieking  petition,   to   the  Tower   for   safety.      There,   he 
died. 

Their  bewilderment  continuing,  the  people  now  lighted 
bonfires  and  made  rejoicings,  as  if  they  had  any  reason  to  be 
glad  to  have  the  King  back  again.  But,  his  stay  was  very 
short,  for  the  English  guards  were  removed  from  Whitehall, 
Dutch  guards  were  marched  up  to  it,  and  he  was  told  by  one 
of  his  late  ministers  that  the  Prince  would  enter  London  next 
day,  and  he  had  better  go  to  Ham.  He  said,  Ham  was  a 
cold  damp  place,  and  he  would  rather  go  to  Rochester.  He 
thought  himself  very  cunning  in  this,  as  he  meant  to  escape 
from  Rochester  to  France.  The  Prince  of  Orange  and  his 
friends  knew  that,  perfectly  well,  and  desired  nothing  more. 
So,  he  went  to  Gravesend,  in  his  royal  barge,  attended  by 
certain  lords,  and  watched  by  Dutch  troops,  and  pitied  b}T  the 
generous  people,  who  were  far  more  forgiving  than  he  had 
ever  been,  when  they  saw  him  in  his  humiliation.  On  the 
night  of  the  twenty-third  of  December,  not  even  then  under- 
standing that  everybody  wanted  to  get  rid  of  him,  he  went 
out,  absurdly,  through  his  Rochester  garden,  down  to  the 
Medway,  and  got  away  to  France,  where  he  rejoined  the 
Queen. 

There  had  been  a  council  in  his  absence,  of  the  lords,  and 
the  authorities  of  London.  When  the  Prince  came,  on  the 
day  after  the  King's  departui  ?,  he  summoned  the  Lords  to 
meet  him,  and  soon  afterwards,  all  those  who  had  served  in 
any  of  the  Parliaments  of  King  Charles  the  Second.  It 
was  finalty  resolved  by  these  authorities  that  the  throne 
was  vacant  by  the  conduct  of  King  James  the  Second; 
that  it  was  inconsistent  with  the  safety  and  welfare  of 
this  Protestant  kingdom,  to  be  governed  by  a  Popish 
prince ;  that  the  Prince  and  Princess  of  Orange  should 
be  King  and  Queen  during  their  lives  and  the  life  of  the 
survivor  of  them ;  and  that  their  children  should  suc- 
ceed them,  if  they  had  any.  That  if  they  had  none,  the 
Princess  Anne  and  her  children  should  succeed ;  that  if 


468  A   CHILD'S  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND.. 

she  had   none,  the  heirs  of  the  Prince  of  Orange   should 
succeed. 

On  the  thirteenth  of  January,  one  thousand  six  hundred 
and  eighty-nine,  the  Prince  and  Princess,  sitting  on  a  throne 
in  Whitehall,  bound  themselves  to  these  conditions.  The 
Protestant  religion  was  established  in  England,  and  England's 
great  and  glorious  Revolution  was  complete. 


CHAPTER    XXXVII. 

I  HAve  now  arrived  at  the  close  of  my  little  history.  The 
events  which  succeeded  the  famous  Revolution  of  one  thousand 
six  hundred  and  eighty-eight,  would  neither  be  easily  related 
nor  easily  understood  in  such  a  book  as  this. 

William  and  Mary  reigned  together,  five  years.  After  the 
death  of  his  good  wife,  William  occupied  the  throne,  alone, 
for  seven  years  longer.  During  his  reign,  on  the  sixteenth 
of  September,  one  thousand  seven  hundred  and  one,  the  poor 
weak  creature  who  had  once  been  James  the  Second  of  Eng- 
land, died  in  France.  In  the  meantime  he  had  done  his 
utmost  (which  was  not  much)  to  cause  William  to  be  assassi- 
nated, and  to  regain  his  lost  dominions.  James's  son  was 
declared,  by  the  French  King,  the  rightful  King  of  England ; 
and  was  called  in  France  THE  CHEVALIER  SAINT  GEORGE, 
and  in  England  THE  PRETENDER.  Some  infatuated  people  in 
England,  and  particularly  in  Scotland,  took  up  the  Pretender's 
cause  from  time  to  time  —  as  if  the  country  had  not  had  Stu- 
arts enough !  —  and  many  lives  were  sacrificed,  and  much 
misery  was  occasioned.  King  William  died  on  Sunday,  the 
seventh  of  March,  one  thousand  seven  hundred  and  two,  of 
the  consequences  of  an  accident  occasioned  by  his  horse 
stumbling  with  him.  He  was  always  a  brave  patriotic  prince, 


CONCLUSION.  469 

and  a  man  of  remarkable  abilities.  His  manner  was  cold, 
and  he  made  but  few  friends  ;  but  he  had  truly  loved  his 
queen.  When  he  was  dead,  a  lock  of  her  hair,  in  a  ring,  was 
found  tied  with  a  black  ribbon  round  his  left  arm. 

He  was  succeeded  by  the  PRINCESS  ANNE,  a  popular  Queen, 
who  reigned  twelve  }'ears.  In  her  reign,  in  the  month  of 
May,  one  thousand  seven  hundred  and  seven,  the  union  be- 
tween England  and  Scotland  was  effected,  and  the  two  coun- 
tries were  incorporated  under  the  name  of  GREAT  BRITAIN. 
Then,  from  the  year  one  thousand  seven  hundred  and  four- 
teen to  the  year  one'  thousand  eight  hundred  and  thirty, 
reigned  the  four  GEORGES. 

It  was  in  the  reign  of  George  the  Second,  one  thousand 
seven  hundred  and  fort3'-flve,  that  the  Pretender  did  his  last 
mischief,  and  made  his  last  appearance.  Being  an  old  man 
by  that  time,  he  and  the  Jacobites  —  as  his  friends  were 
called  —  put  forward  his  son,  CHARLES  EDWARD,  known  as 
the  Young  Chevalier.  The  Highlanders  of  Scotland,  an  ex- 
tremely troublesome  and  wrong-headed  race  on  the  subject  of 
the  Stuarts,  espoused  his  cause,  and  he  joined  them,  and 
there  was  a  Scottish  rebellion  to  make  him  king,  in  which 
many  gallant  and  devoted  gentlemen  lost  their  lives.  It  was  a 
hard  matter  for  Charles  Edward  to  escape  abroad  again,  with 
a  high  price  on  his  head  ;  but  the  Scottish  people  were  ex- 
traordinarily faithful  to  him,  and,  after  undergoing  many 
romantic  adventures,  not  unlike  those  of  Charles  the  Second, 
he  escaped  to  France.  A  number  of  charming  stories  and 
delightful  songs  arose  out  of  the  Jacobite  feelings,  and  belong 
to  the  Jacobite  times.  Otherwise  I  think  the  Stuarts  were  a 
public  nuisance  altogether. 

It  was  in  the  reign  of  George  the  Third  that  England  lost 
North  America,  by  persisting  in  taxing  her  without  her  own 
consent.  That  immense  country,  made  independent  under 
WASHINGTON,  and  left  to  itself,  became  the  United  States ; 
one  of  the  greatest  nations  of  the  earth.  In  these  times  in 
which  I  write,  it  is  honorably  remarkable  for  protecting  its 


470  A  CHILD'S   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND. 

subjects,  wherever  they  may  travel,  with  a  dignity  and  a  de- 
termination which  is  a  model  for  England.  Between  yon  and 
me,  England  has  rather  lost  ground  in  this  respect  since  the 
da}-s  of  Oliver  Cromwell. 

The  union  of  Great  Britain  with  Ireland  —  which  had  been 
getting  on  very  ill  by  itself — took  place  in  the  reign  of 
George  the  Third,  on  the  second  of  July,  one  thousand  seven 
hundred  and  ninety-eight. 

WILLIAM  THE  FOURTH  succeeded  George  the  Fourth,  in  the 
year  one  thousand  eight  hundred  and  thirty,  and  reigned 
seven  years.  QUEEN  VICTORIA,  his  niece,  the  only  child  of 
the  Duke  of  Kent,  the  fourth  son  of  George  the  Third,  came 
to  the  throne  on  the  twentieth  of  June,  one  thousand  eight 
hundred  and  thirty-seven.  She  was  married  to  PRINCE  AL- 
BERT of  Saxe  Gotha  on  the  tenth  of  February,  one  thousand 
eight  hundred  and  forty.  She  is  very  good,  and  much 
beloved.  So  I  end,  like  the  crier,  with 

GOD  SAVE  THE  QUEEN! 


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